Trouble Is
by Sarahkw
Summary: It's been 5 years since Toby skipped town after the hoedown dance. Life has moved on, the mysteries of -A, Red Coat and murders all finally resolved. Spencer Hastings is doing just fine - until circumstances bring Toby Cavanaugh back to Rosewood.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first crack at a Spencer/Toby fan fiction. I plowed through every episode of Pretty Little Liars (twice) recently and while I was initially sure Aria would be my favorite character, Spencer won me over, followed quickly by Toby. I've been having writer's block on another (Hart of Dixie) story I've been working on and I miss having a creative outlet and so - this story was born.  
**

**I can't say how often I'll be able to update, just that I'll try to be consistent. Real life gets busy sometimes! I usually wrote long updates which means I don't update frequently. This time around, I'm going to try shorter updates which likely means A) more frequent updates and B) more chapters. :) I also promise author notes won't be this long! **

**The inspiration for this story is Charlie Worsham's "Trouble Is." It takes place 5 years down the road. The -A, Red Coat, and murder mysteries have all been solved and life is moving on for our PLLs. Toby took off after his dance with Spencer at the Hoedown and hasn't been seen since. Until circumstances bring him back to Rosewood.  
**

* * *

_Tonight I'm gonna be strong  
Keep it under control_  
_You won't get under my skin_

_Gonna keep a clear head__Guard my heart and my soul_  
_So you can't walk right in_

_Then you walk right in_

Time was a funny thing. Each day seemed exactly like the one before it. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Sometimes, a date or dinner with friends broke up the routine but ultimately, each day felt like the same as the one before it and the one after it. But really, no matter how similar each day felt to those surrounding it, all it took was a glance backwards in time to realize that everything had changed.

Spencer Hastings knew that all too well, no matter how much she loved routine and order. And everyone who knew her, knew she was a slave to her routine. She woke up at 6AM Monday through Friday, got in an hour long workout before inhaling a quick breakfast and pumping herself up with the first of many mugs of coffee. She was in her office by 9AM and often making her first call by 9:05. She stayed until at least 6, often later, and when she got home, she ate a dinner, usually something microwavable, and worked some more.

She had graduated high school a mere five years ago, but in that time, she and her friends had come into their own, now free from the mystery and terror of –A and red coat, from whether Alison DiLaurentis was dead or alive, the murders of Garrett, Detective Walden, Maya. It seemed like an alternate reality now, a dream.

Much to her parents' chagrin, she had gone into interior design, deciding to pursue something she'd kept a dormant passion for over the years, too focused on what her parents wanted her to do to give it the proper attention it deserved. She'd graduated from Drexel a year ago with several clients already on her roaster, thanks to both her drive and talent, and returned to Rosewood to set up shop. She'd considered moving away, going anywhere but her hometown, but in her heart, she knew she'd never go too far from home.

It was much the same for her friends. Hanna and Caleb, newly married, had made a go of living in Philadelphia but both of them had felt the pull of Rosewood and moved back a few months ago. Neither of them had gone to college, but Hanna's love of fashion and Caleb's talent for computer programming had earned them a decent living, Caleb running his own business from a home office, Hanna in the process of opening her own boutique in downtown Rosewood.

Aria too had stuck close to home, attending Hollis although she hadn't graduated. Spencer harbored a feeling that Aria's lack of completing her degree had more to do with the betrayal of one Ezra Fitz and less to do with the 'lack of desire to pursue higher education' as she had put it when she'd announced to her parents she wouldn't be returning to the college for her junior year. She did well enough though, working as a photographer in and around Rosewood and writing short stories and a blog that was well-received. It was a creative life, but it suited her. Spencer often brought her in to photograph her work once it was completed.

Emily had ended up attending Texas A&M on a swimming scholarship and was the one member of their group that stayed away from Rosewood after graduation. She was an assistant swim coach at Syracuse now, in a relationship with a sweet girl they had all liked the few times they'd met. She visited a few times a year, called frequently and texted every day but of all of them, Emily had perhaps lost the most and it made sense that while the rest of them stuck close to Rosewood to deal with the remnants of their teenage years, Emily stayed way to deal with hers.

Spencer was thinking along those lines as she sat at her small kitchen island, drinking coffee and eating a waffle fresh out of the toaster. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, the rest of her tied into a robe, her heart rate back to normal and the sweat and grime washed down the drain after a particular intense early morning run. She loved morning runs in the last days of summer as fall started to creep in, the air crisp and clear, the leaves starting to change. Even though the last text from –A had been five years ago, she still marveled at the fact that she once more felt safe to strap on a pair of tennis shoes and run through Rosewood on her own.

At her feet, her constant companion, a teacup Yorkie named Max, laid on his back, a ball between his two front paws as he chewed away happily, waiting for his owner to dole out his morning treat that came like clockwork. The TV was off, Spencer no longer a fan of being glued to the news. It was quiet and peaceful and she reveled in the silence as she sipped her steaming hot coffee.

She loved her little cottage, right in the heart of downtown Rosewood. It was small, the downstairs comprised of a kitchen, living room, a small dining nook and laundry room along with a half bath tucked neatly under the stairs. Upstairs, her master bedroom and bathroom took up most of the space, a small second bedroom serving as a cross between an office and extra closet space. It hadn't been lived in in years, but she had bought it for a steal and restored it meticulously. It was hers and it was home.

Like clockwork, she rinsed her breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwasher before giving Max a treat and throwing his ball across the living room a few times. She then went upstairs and dressed for the day, pulling together a comfortable but classic look, drying her hair and using just a bit of makeup to hide a few blemishes and accent her best feature – her eyes. An hour later, she was walking into her office.

There was a sort of irony in the fact that her office ended up being the loft above The Brew. She had been reluctant to take the space at first, too many memories, both good and bad, attached to it. Ultimately, her options limited in the small town, it had suited her needs best and Zac had been okay with her renovating it to optimize the space, even giving her the go ahead to knock down a wall and utilize empty storage space. The first days had been accompanied by pangs of sadness, pushed down by focusing on her work and now, she hardly thought about the time she'd spent there with Toby. Its proximity to coffee was an added bonus.

She worked diligently through the morning, spent a great deal of it on the phone working out the details of a custom hand-painted wallpaper order for a historical home she was working on a an hour or so outside of Rosewood. Marveling at how much her client was willing to send on wallpaper alone, she'd hung up satisfied and hungry. She pushed herself to work another hour before deciding it was time to go in search of food.

The hush that fell over the table of middle aged housewives, all of them friends with her mother, as she entered The Grill should have been her first clue that something was amiss. She'd been too preoccupied with texting Hanna to confirm their afternoon appointment to notice however and didn't so much as look up until she'd reached the bar, unaware that anyone who had been a resident of Rosewood long enough to remember Spencer from five years back had ceased talking and were watching her curiously.

"What'll it be today, Spencer?" Sandy, the usual girl who worked the counter at lunch asked. "A wrap, sandwich or salad?"

"A Caesar salad," Spencer responded, glancing down at her phone as Hanna's reply lit up the screen. "Add grilled chicken. And a Diet Coke." She didn't see Sandy glance a bit nervously from her to the person occupying a stool a few spots down. Like she did every day, Spencer slipped onto a stool and reached into her bag for the most recent book she'd been reading.

While she hadn't noticed him, he had certainly noticed her. He had turned as the door had opened, something bigger than himself telling him to turn around. He'd lost his breath for a moment, taking in the girl he'd left behind standing in the doorway. She had only gotten more beautiful over the last five years, still walked with the same confident stride. He wanted to throw himself in her path and silently slink away unnoticed, all at the same time.

Unlike her, he'd been aware of the hush that fell over the crowd. He was always aware of his surroundings, painfully so. He heard every snap of a twig, every fall of a footstep. He probably always would and had come to doubt that he'd ever not have the urge to glance over his shoulder every now and again to make sure no one was watching him, following him. He knew the crowd was waiting for her to see him, for her to react, give them something to go back and gossip about to those who weren't there to witness it.

He kept his eyes trained to the grain of the bar top while he waited for his order, placed only moments before she'd walked in. The noise slowly returned, lunches resumed as people realized no confrontation was going to occur. He was glad for their distraction, especially when a bag with his order in it was placed on the counter, between Spencer and the cash register.

Spencer instinctively looked up as the white bag appeared in her peripheral vision, checking to see if it was hers. Instead, she saw a familiar frame which quickly disappeared as a set of the bluest eyes she'd seen in five years met hers. She felt breath leave her and the rest of the world fall away all at once as something that looked like fear passed through the crystal blues of one Toby Cavanaugh.

"Spencer," he said softly, nodding at her politely. His hands shook slightly as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

"Toby," Spencer managed to choke out. The restaurant returned to focus as she regained her ability to breathe.

"How's it going?" he asked, knowing that asking Spencer such a simple, ordinary question after everything was downright ridiculous. But it was the only safe option he had.

"You're back," she said in response. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Toby Cavanaugh since their ill-fated dance at the hoedown. She'd heard through the grapevine – namely from those who talked with his parents or Jenna – that he had been living somewhere down south. She never bothered to find out more. After he'd abandoned her a third time, she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Yeah," he replied, not offering up anything more. He handed Sandy a credit card and then signed the receipt she passed back. "Bye, Spencer," he said. She barely had time to register what he'd said before he was gone, his black leather jacket disappearing around the corner of the restaurant.

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**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for the warm welcome! I'm glad you're loving this story so far. Building a future Rosewood is pretty fun. ;) **

**This chapter sets up a lot of the story moving forward. I'd _LOVE _for the show to explore Toby's character/family more. Which they're kind of doing in season 4, I guess. But he's such a complex character and those are my favorite kind to write - the more flawed the better. **

* * *

"So wait, he's back? In Rosewood? Like, Rosewood, Pennsylvania? As in, here? Where we live?" Spencer sighed heavily and but her head down on the table.

"For the tenth time, Hanna, yes, Toby Cavanaugh is back in town," she confirmed.

"When did he get back?" Aria asked. "He couldn't have been here long. With how everyone in this town gossips, we'd have heard something for sure."

"I didn't exactly ask him for an update on life," Spencer retorted. She sat up again, straightening out the sketches, order forms and fabric swatches spread across the drafting turned work table the three of them were stationed at in the middle of Hanna's soon to be boutique.

After she'd left The Grill, she'd returned to her office and choked down her salad, for no other reason than keeping her blood sugar stable, her mind reeling. She'd had a thousand questions running through her head since coming face to face with Toby. Why was he back? Where had he been? What did he want? Why did he leave? The list went on, as did the internal battle of whether she wanted to know the answers.

"What's he doing back here?" Hanna repeated. "Why would he bother to come back? Not like he has anything here."

"Hanna!" Aria chided, glancing at Spencer nervously. Spencer looked at Aria and shrugged.

"He doesn't," she agreed. It was the truth. Toby had lost his claim on her heart a long time ago.

"Still," Hanna said with a shake of her head. "It's weird."

"I guess it's not all _that _weird," Aria ventured. "His dad still lives here. His mom is buried here."

"Because family ties were so important to Toby," Hanna interjected.

"Nothing was important to Toby," Spencer spoke up. In the silence that followed, she rearranged a few swatches of fabric, keeping her eyes on her work. Aria and Hanna each searched for something to fill the quiet, something to smooth over old wounds, but they had nothing. There was a time when they would have argued that Toby had loved her more than his own life. Those days were long gone.

"Well, hopefully he won't be around for long," Hanna finally said.

"Just – avoid him," Aria advised. "Actually use that fancy coffeemaker in your office kitchenette instead of heading down to The Brew every time you need a caffeine fix. Which is every hour on the hour."

"Have you met Spencer?" Hanna asked Aria. "That fancy coffeemaker is _always _set to on."

"You know what I mean," Aria retorted. Spencer rolled her eyes. They were adults in every sense of the word and yet they still managed to resurrect shadows of their teenage self from time to time.

"I'm not going to avoid anyone," she said. "I spent high school avoiding people and looking over my shoulder. If I want coffee, I'm going to go downstairs and get coffee. If I want to eat lunch at The Grill, I'll eat lunch at The Grill. And if my jogging path takes me straight past wherever Toby Cavanaugh is staying while he's in Rosewood, then so be it. I'm not changing anything about my life just because an old boyfriend has returned. Now, Hanna, you have a boutique to open. If you're going to have paint on the walls or rugs on the floor, how about we actually turn our attention to what this meeting is actually about?

"That's our Spencer, always sticking to the plan," Hanna muttered after a moment of shocked silence following Spencer's speech. "Show me what you've got. Dazzle me with your interior design talents." Aria, meanwhile, retreated to the worn out futon that Hanna was currently using as a desk chair and propped her feet up on the overturned milk crates serving as a desk. She pulled out her laptop. Both Hanna and Spencer looked at her curiously.

"Okay, technically, I was here because Hanna called and said she was bored by herself. Now that its Spencer's job to keep Hanna entertained, I'm going to work. I'm off duty." Spencer once more rolled her eyes and reached for the first set of sketches she wanted to show Hanna.

"Just, watch where you put your feet," Hanna said. "There are some sketches of new designs I've been working on…" she eyed the mess of papers scattered across the milk crates. "Somewhere."

"Note to self, incorporate filing system in Hanna's office," Spencer said.

"Why?" Aria piped up. "She'll never use it."

"Hey!" Hanna exclaimed.

"Just being honest, Han."

"Can we please look at these samples and maybe decide on what fabric swatches you want me to order?" Spencer asked.

"Dazzle me," Hanna said again, turning her attention back to Spencer.

"Thank you," Spencer said as she reached for her first sketch. She pushed all thoughts of Toby Cavanaugh out of her head. "Okay, Han, here's option one…"

* * *

Toby let himself in the house quietly, his heart still racing, head spinning, from seeing Spencer Hastings up close and in the flesh.

When he'd made the decision to return to Rosewood, he'd known he'd cross paths with her. The town was too small for it to be avoided. He'd hoped he'd be able to ease himself into it, save himself from what a face-to-face encounter would do to his heart. A glimpse of her from a distance, a sighting of her walking down the street from the safety of his truck, seeing her through the window at The Brew as he passed by on the sidewalk. Eventually, he'd have to talk to her, but he would have had time to acclimate himself to being around her again, making the unavoidable confrontation somewhat easier to bear.

Fate had another plan, as it always did where he was concerned, and had thrown her directly in his path less than 48 hours after his return to Rosewood. It had shaken him, harder than he thought it would, and, in a strange sort of way, gave him a sense of peace. She really was okay. The bits and pieces of information he'd heard about her over the years had told him she'd turned out fine, but he'd never quite been able to believe it without seeing her with his own two eyes.

"Toby? Is that you?"

Toby rounded the corner and entered the living room where his father was seated comfortably in his old, worn recliner that stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise modern but comfortable room, his father unwilling to part with it, his stepmother long ago giving up the battle. Sports Center filled the TV screen, the volume low.

"It's me," he confirmed. He took a seat on the couch and started removing the contents of his bag. "Where's Judith?" He unwrapped a burger, saw the onions, and passed it to his father.

"Grocery store," he answered. "I'll have you know I timed my lunch request perfectly with her list of errands for the afternoon. Your stepmother would have my hide on a silver platter if she caught me eating like this. Which reminds me, you're going to have to lie if any questions about why there's enough food wrappers in the trash for two or three people come up – say your appetite has grown substantially since you last lived under our roof." Toby chuckled.

"Your secret is safe with me," he said. It was good to have secrets about things like how much greasy food was consumed and by whom again. It was much more manageable than trying to keep –A secrets under wraps. "How are you feeling today? Tell the truth, no sugarcoating."

"Today's a good day," his father confirmed. "By tomorrow, I should be strong enough to actually put on something besides gym shorts. I might even hit the golf course later this week, get one last game in before," he stopped for a moment, "before it turns cold."

Toby, previously starving, even after his run in with Spencer, felt his appetite dissipate. "Don't talk like that," he chided.

"I admire your faith that I'll be okay, Tobias, but the reality is, my chances of beating this a second time are grim." Toby shook his head.

"You can't talk like that," he said again. "You have to stay optimistic." His father merely shook his head, knowing furthering his attempt to get his only son to face facts was a moot point. Instead, he picked up a few fries, stuffed them into his mouth and chewed slowly. He motioned at Toby that he should resume eating and so Toby did as told, his appetite slowly returning as he ate.

"See any of your old friends while you were downtown?" he asked. Toby barely stopped himself from snorting at how ridiculous the question was. If his father had known anything about his teenage years, he'd have known the words 'friend' and 'Toby' weren't generally used in the same sentence. But time and circumstances had changed and father and son had forged something akin to a relationship, which meant his father made an effort to know about his life.

"I, um, actually ran into Spencer Hastings," he admitted. It was his father's turn to stop eating.

"How was that?" he asked. Toby shrugged.

"Awkward," he admitted. "A relief, I guess. It was good to get it out of the way."

"What ever happened between the two of you anyway? You were crazy about her and then all of a sudden you were gone."

"That's a loaded question, Dad," Toby answered. His father and stepmother knew very little about –A and the gritty details that went along with it. "Let's just say that I'm lucky Spencer didn't rip my head right off my body."

"So it ended well," his father said with a hint of sarcasm.

"It ended as badly as it possibly could," Toby confirmed.

"Any chance of salvaging it?" his father pressed. "Time heals and all that? I liked the two of you together. She was good for you, brought you out of your shell."

"I'm sure that ship has sailed," Toby replied, pushing down thoughts of how Spencer had essentially saved him all those years ago. His father shook his head.

* * *

**And now you have a *little* glimpse into what's going on with Toby and why he's returned to Rosewood. You also met his father. Stay tuned! **

**Let me know what you think! **

"Never say never," he told him. "After all, you said you'd never return to Rosewood and here you are." Toby didn't have an argument for that. He'd sworn, as recently as three months ago, that he would never return to his hometown. Then his father had fallen ill once more and everything had changed.

"How are the Steelers shaping up?" Toby asked, changing the subject. His father was diehard Pittsburg Steelers fan and had been glued to pre-season football games, counting down to the regular season kickoff in a couple weeks. As Toby predicted, the man was off, going on about stats, injury reports and his own observations of the team. Toby sat back and listened, taking in every last detail of the upcoming NFL season.

* * *

Later that night, Toby stood in his bedroom window, looking out over the neighborhood. His room hadn't changed in the years since he'd lived in it. His antique model trucks still lined the glass shelves on the window. His posters were still on the wall and clothes he'd worn six, seven years ago had still been in the dresser drawers when he'd returned.

The view from the window hadn't changed much either though the residents in some of the homes had. The Fields' home had been sold to a new family since he'd last been in Rosewood, the backyard now housing a swing set and a playhouse, a few other toys scattered about. The DiLaurentis home was largely abandoned these days although it looked like someone kept up the yard and the exterior. At the far end of the street, if he squinted, he could make out the peaks of the Hastings home, hidden behind a fence and gate, a gate Spencer had once given him the passcode to, trusting him blindly.

A glimpse of roof peaks was all it took to send him down a path of Spencer-filled memories and regrets as he laid across his full size bed, the linens freshly laundered by his stepmother but still the same blue and grey set he'd had in high school.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds and yet, five years later, there was still a large portion of his heart that was raw and bleeding over how things had ended with Spencer. He knew he'd handled everything all wrong, knew the decision to leave town was the wrong one the second he made it, and yet he'd still followed through.

What Spencer hadn't known – what no one had known – was how much he'd been struggling. Guilt over his actions - joining the A-Team, hurting Spencer so deeply, lying to the people he loved and cared for – had gnawed away at him, awakening demons he had thought long ago buried. With the added stress of the realization that his mother's death may not have been a suicide at all, he had barely been holding himself together, had barely been able to put one foot in front of the other, no matter how well he'd fooled Spencer into thinking he was fine, that _they _were fine.

He'd spent much of the last five years piecing his life back together. He'd hit rock bottom – a genuine, lowest of low – shortly after leaving Rosewood and had stayed there for too long. He'd finally managed to pull himself up by his bootstraps and push through the darkness although he'd be lying if he said he didn't have a dark day every now and then. He'd thrown himself into his work after that and had more or less stayed there ever since, the rest of his life more or less on hold.

In a perfect world, a world where he made all the rules, he would have taken Spencer by the hand at The Grill, pulled her aside, and poured his heart out, told her everything that had happened in the last five years. She would have listened. Understood. Forgiven him. Instead, he'd choked out a few polite words and thanked his lucky stars that she hadn't slapped him to the ground just like he'd deserved.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up and retrieved the study guide he'd been working on earlier. He laid back across his bed and tried to refocus his attention on something besides Spencer Hastings and the mess he'd left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**A big thank you again to everyone who has reviewed! You all have been too kind. Thank you!**

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"This is incredible, Mrs. Sanford," Spencer marveled. "The covered veranda on the second floor is the perfect touch."

"Isn't it?" the older lady gushed. "I hadn't even thought about a first floor veranda, but the architect – he's such a sweet boy, you'd like him – suggested building one just off the morning room and I agreed. And then, when he came by with the plans earlier – you just missed him – he'd taken the liberty of building it out on the second floor which makes perfect sense. Why not utilize that empty space?"

Spencer nodded in agreement, her eyes combing over the blueprints in front of her carefully. Architecture wasn't her specialty by any means, but she found the blueprints invaluable to her creativity when it came to putting together room. So many of her clients brought her in to re-design rooms long ago put together or else after construction had finished. She loved being in on the project from the beginning, especially a big project like this one.

"You know, this wall here? What about putting in windows all the way across? You'll have amazing views of the sunset and we can custom create drapery that will cover the whole wall if you want to block the natural light. There's also a small lake just down the hill from here, right? It would be a beautiful view."

"I love that," Mrs. Sanford exclaimed. She wrote herself a few notes on the notepad she carried everywhere with her these days. "And I was thinking, what are your thoughts on the doorways? I was thinking an arched door might look better?"

For the next hour, Spencer and Mrs. Sanford poured over the blueprints, followed by the latest round of paint chips and fabric swatches. By the time she left, Mrs. Sanford had made a few final decisions though they still had plenty to go. The Sanford restoration of an old historic home an hour north or Rosewood was a massive project that came with a substantial pay day. It was set to be the crown jewel of Spencer's portfolio so far and she was more than willing to humor Mrs. Sanford's ever constant questions and late night emails of Pinterest inspiration boards for the end results.

She was lost in thoughts of what she wanted to do with the morning room and didn't see the pot hole until she'd driven right through. She let out a curse word as her seatbelt tightened around her, triggered by the violent bounce of the car. She let out a breath a moment later and kept driving, her attention now on the road.

As she continued to drive, however, a vibration in her steering wheel became apparent and she found herself fighting the wheel to keep the car from pulling to the left. A small tire lit up red on her dashboard and with a sigh, she pulled over on side of the road and got out. Sure enough, her left front tire was flat.

"Damn it!" she cursed. She was in the middle of nowhere, hadn't passed so much as a house in miles. She retrieved her phone and was shocked to see she had service. She put in a call to roadside assistance and let out another string of profanities when they told her it would be at least two hours before someone could come to her aid. She got back in her car, turned on the hazard lights, and hoped for a friendly passerby as she Googled 'how to change a flat tire.'

Ten minutes later, her confidence that she could change a flat buoyed by a few YouTube videos that made it look easy, she fished the spare out of her car and managed to find the jack in her car's emergency kit. She'd positioned the jack under the car and was attempting to pump the handle to lift it when the sound of a motorcycle reached her ears.

"Please, God, let that be someone who is not a serial killer and knows how to change a flat," she muttered. She stood on the side of the road, waiting for the bike to come into view. It slowed as it approached her and she gave the driver a timid smile. It was still hard for her to trust strangers, but desperate times were desperate measures.

The biker rolled to a stop and pushed his kickstand down. He reached for his helmet and removed it. Spencer couldn't stop the gasp that came out of her mouth. The biker wasn't a stranger at all. Although he may as well have been.

"Looks like you've got a flat," Toby said, climbing off his bike. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he approached.

"Pot hole," Spencer confirmed. "Roadside assistance is on the way."

"In what, an hour? Two hours?" Toby replied. He stopped several feet away from Spencer, not sure how open she'd be to him helping her, especially out in the middle of nowhere. He knew Spencer hated to be a damsel in distress, but he also knew changing a tire wasn't something within her realm of expertise. It happened to be in his. It looked like fate was giving him a break for a change.

"They'll be here as soon as they can," Spencer said. Toby nodded at the jack.

"So you thought you'd change it yourself in the meantime? Let me guess, you Googled it on your phone."

"Well, it beat sitting around waiting," Spencer retorted. It annoyed her that he still seemed to know her so well.

"Give me five minutes," Toby said with a hint of a grin. He started towards the car.

"You really don't…" He held up his hand to stop Spencer.

"I've got it," he said, kneeling down to inspect the damage.

"It's really not necessary…" Toby turned to look up at her.

"Either I change the tire or I stay with you until roadside assistance comes," he said. "Like it or not, I'm not leaving you in the middle of nowhere. In case you haven't noticed, not a soul has come by since I've been here. I'd venture a guess that I'm the first person you've seen since you've been on side the road."

"Fine," Spencer relented. She crossed her arms and stood aside as Toby peeled off his leather jacket, tossed it aside, and went to work on the tire. Spencer tried not to notice how his muscles flexed as he first pumped the jack handle to lift the car and then applied force to loosen the lug nuts. He made quick work of it, easily removing her flattened tire and replacing it with her spare.

"You're going to have to take it slow on this," he told her as he tightened the lug nuts back in place. "Your spare is pretty worn." He lowered the car back to the ground, removed the jack and replaced it in Spencer's car.

"Thanks," Spencer said, speaking the first words she'd uttered since he went to work. She'd been too busy trying not to notice how his v-neck clung to his well-toned physique while attempting to decide on _something _to say that wouldn't come out awkward or wrong. Toby examined the damaged tire as he picked it up to add it to the back of Spencer's small SUV.

"You've got a pretty nasty hole in this," he said. "I don't think it can be repaired. But that's probably a good thing." He kicked her left rear tire. "I noticed the tread is getting pretty thin on all your tires. Might be time to consider getting four new ones."

"Thanks," Spencer said again, thinking back to the last time she'd had so much as an oil change. She couldn't remember when it was. "I'll have a mechanic look at it tomorrow." Toby nodded and shut the SUV's hatch.

"You're all set," he said. "Just, like I said, take it easy driving home. No high speed chases or drag races."

"I will," Spencer agreed, allowing a small smile to form. She went to her car and pulled out her purse. When she turned back to Toby, he was already walking towards his motorcycle. "Toby!" He turned at the sound of her voice and frowned as she pulled out her wallet.

"No, Spencer," he said, holding up his hands as she took out a few bills. "I think it's safe to say I owe you." There was a pregnant pause between the two, both considering what he'd just said, recounting past hurts. Finally, Spencer returned her wallet to her bag.

"Thanks again," she said.

"Not a problem," Toby said with a nod of his head. They parted ways, Toby pulling his jacket on as he climbed back onto his motorcycle, Spencer sliding back behind the wheel of her car. She drove slowly to Rosewood, Toby and his bike in her review mirror until she reached the Rosewood city limits.

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**Let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I just love reading your reviews - you are all so kind! Here's the next update. I hope you like this one. :)**

* * *

"Spencer!" Aria called as she entered Spencer's office.

"Hey," Spencer greeted, coming out of her small kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee. "Want some coffee?" Aria smiled fondly and shook her head.

"I've got a shoot this afternoon. I need a steady hand. I've had my morning latte so unlike you, I have to call it a day."

"Suit yourself," Spencer said, sitting down on the couch in the small seating area she usually reserved for clients – and impromptu visits from friends. "What brings you by?"

"Just dropping off this," Aria said, joining Spencer on the couch and handing her a flash drive. "It's the photos you had me shoot of the Jennings' dining room. I have to ask one more time – are they for real with that wallpaper?"

"Sadly, yes," Spencer said, making a face at the memory. It wasn't her favorite project. The couple had chosen a horrendous red and gold patterned wall paper before bringing in Spencer's expert opinion and no amount of prodding, coaxing or downright begging would change their minds about it. She'd done the best she could and the room looked decent enough in the end. She was planning to use it as a 'before and after' post on her website, making sure to point out that the wallpaper had been the 'inspiration' of the room and she'd taken it from there. She was hoping it would prove she could turn even the ugliest swan beautiful.

"Well, as always, you have both the originals and the ones I edited. They are yours to use at will."

"You are amazing," Spencer told her. "And easily the best retainer fee I could spend each month."

"I'm your only retainer fee," Aria retorted with a grin. "Which means I get to shoot the Sanford house when you're done. I can only imagine what those photos will look like. Old, historical. That house has such a story, just waiting to be told."

"Speaking of the Sanford house…" Spencer ventured as she plugged the drive into her laptop. She opened the first photo and started flipping through them, impressed as always with Aria's work. "I drove out there for a meeting a couple days ago."

"And?" Aria prompted. She was fascinated by the house, even currently researching its history in preparation for her shoot whenever it rolled around.

"And Mrs. Sanford showed me the blueprints for the expansion. The architect had a genius idea to not only add a veranda but to make it two stories, use up the space for the second floor. I suggested making the side wall of the morning room all windows. Can you imagine that view?"

"Stunning," Aria agreed. "And the veranda? That's a great idea."

"It's going to be amazing," Spencer confirmed. "If only I could get her to settle on a paint color. For any room. At all." Aria chuckled, aware of Spencer's struggles with getting Mrs. Sanford to make up her mind on anything design-related.

"Just think, you've barely even started looking at fabrics." Spencer groaned at Aria's all too true statement.

"These are great, Aria," she said as she reached the last photo. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," Aria said, meaning it. "And by the way, where's your car? I didn't see it in its usual spot. I thought you weren't here, but then I saw you walk past the window."

"It's down the street at Bruce Brothers' Garage getting four new tires," Spencer said. "And a bunch of other work that's going to cost me a kidney. Apparently routine maintenance on a vehicle actually matters."

"Oil changes are the life of your car," Aria agreed. Spencer gave her a weird look which Aria shrugged off. "That's what my dad says. He gets his oil changed every 3,000 miles like clockwork."

"You know, it was actually Toby that told me I should have my tires checked," Spencer ventured.

She'd been dying to tell one of her friends about her back road run in with Toby, but hadn't found the opportunity, both because she hadn't known how to bring it up and because they hadn't had a chance to really talk since it had occurred. Aria had been busy editing a wedding she'd shot over the weekend, Hanna was knee deep in opening her boutique and when Emily had called the previous night, she'd been gushing about the new apartment she and her girlfriend had just signed a lease on.

"Toby?" Aria questioned. "As in Cavanaugh?" Spencer nodded.

"One in the same."

"How'd that happen?" she asked, curious as to how the two had managed to cross paths in such a remote area.

"I hit a pot hole driving back. I called Triple A, but they were going to be a couple hours, assuming they could even find me. So I googled it on my phone – which, for the record, there's actually service way out there – and was attempting to change the flat myself when Toby came along on his motorcycle. He changed the tire, suggested I get the rest of them looked at, and we went our separate ways. Or, the same way. We both drove back to Rosewood, he turned off on his street and I came to my office."

"What was he doing way out there?" Aria asked.

"I didn't ask," Spencer said. Aria played with the set of keys she'd been holding since she walked in.

"Spence, how do you feel about him being here?" she asked. She'd been worried about Spencer ever since she'd revealed that Toby was back. After learning that Ezra was –A all along, she hadn't been in the frame of mind to help Spencer through Toby's third and seemingly final abandonment. She knew Spencer acted strong but ultimately, when she broke, she crumbled into a million tiny pieces.

"I don't know," Spencer admitted. "It's – weird."

"Just weird?" Aria pushed.

"For now," Spencer said. She sighed and closed her laptop. "I put my life back together, Aria. After –A, Red Coat, all the murders, learning the truth about Ali… I can finally sleep with my windows open and my doors unlocked. We all can. What Toby did hurt, but I got over it. Again. I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I was five years ago. I'm not going to let him mess that up. Not again."

"Good," Aria said, satisfied with the conviction in Spencer's voice. "We've all come too far to go back." The two friends traded a knowing smile. "I should go. I've got to finish editing those photos and deliver them to the bride."

"Thanks for dropping these off," Spencer said, motioning at the flash drive still in her laptop. "Dinner at my place tomorrow? I'll see if Han can make it too."

"Sounds perfect. I'll bring the wine." Spencer smiled to herself as she listened to Aria's footsteps disappearing down the metal staircase outside the loft. Out of everything that had changed, it was good to know she still had her friends. She returned to her desk with her coffee in hand, glanced at the clock, and resumed work on the sketch she'd been drafting before her coffee break.

* * *

It didn't take much for Spencer to get caught up in her work. Only an empty mug of coffee and a growl from her stomach had caused her to look up from her sketch to discover it was after 2:00. She hadn't had a mouthful since the English muffin with peanut butter and a banana from much earlier that morning and found she was famished now. She made her way down to The Brew.

"Work through lunch again?" Zach asked as he saw her approach the counter.

"Yeah," Spencer admitted. "Can I get a turkey wrap? And a nonfat dry vanilla latte…?"

"With an extra espresso shot?" Zach guessed. Spencer nodded, a guilty smile forming on her face. "And thanks, by the way, for the house warming present. Ella and I appreciate it. Expect a handwritten thank you note to follow, but I promised her I'd thank you in person as well."

"It was my pleasure," Spencer said. She was happy to see her favorite coffee shop owner and landlord happy with Aria's mother. The couple had just gotten married in a Justice of the Peace ceremony and moved into a new home. She selected a bag of chips and paid for her order, then stepped to the other end of the counter.

While she waited, she glanced around the coffee shop. It was mostly empty, people at work or school in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of Hollis students sat in a corner, books spread around their table, both buried in their notes, completely ignoring the other. A few tables down, a man sat typing away on his laptop while a few women perched in the arm chairs near the loft stairs, talking over lattes. And, at a table by the window, sat Toby Cavanaugh.

Spencer watched him curiously, trying to figure out what he was doing. He hadn't seen her, or at least she didn't think he had, as she'd come down the loft stairs and not had to enter through the door near him. He was bent over what looked to be several pieces of paper, a pencil in hand. He was completely absorbed in what he was doing, a half-eaten muffin and half full mug of coffee perched precariously near the end of the table.

"Spencer? Here you go," one of waitresses said, passing her a drink and a bag containing her wrap.

"Thanks," Spencer said politely. She turned with every intention of going back upstairs but instead, she found her feet taking her towards Toby under no direction from her. He was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn't notice her until she spoke. "Toby?" she asked. He started, jarred out of his work zone by the interruption.

"Spencer," he said, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," she said, glancing at his work. She saw then that he'd been bent over blueprints. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. "I um, just wanted to say thank you again, for changing my tire the other day." Toby shook his head.

"It was just a flat tire, Spencer." Changing a tire was the very least he could for her.

"You were right about needing new tires. My car is down the street at Bruce's getting four new ones and who knows what else." Toby shook his head again.

"Should've taken it to Franklin's across town," he said. "Bruce's is convenient but he'll rob you blind."

"Tell me about it," Spencer mumbled. She'd already done the research after Bruce himself had called with a quote earlier that morning and knew it was outrageous but as Toby had said, it was convenient. She looked at Toby who had a guarded sort of expression on his face. "Mind if I sit?" she heard herself asking. It was like someone was operating her body for her.

"Sure," Toby said. For the second time in as many minutes, he looked surprised. Spencer, surprised herself, slid into the booth across from Toby. He rearranged his large sheets papers so she'd have some space to eat and when he did, Spencer realized what the blueprints were for.

"That's the Sanford house!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to get a better look.

"It is," Toby confirmed. "I'm doing some work for her." Spencer looked at him.

"You are?" He nodded.

"She had some changes to the blueprints I showed her the other day. Wants a row of windows, arched doorways…"

"And a fireplace in the new great room," Spencer finished. Toby looked at her and she gave him a guilty sort of grin. "Those were my changes. I'm doing the interior design."

"So you're the 'pretty little designer' that had all these grand ideas," he replied. His insides squirmed a little as he realized he'd likely be seeing a lot more of Spencer.

"One in the same," she confirmed. Her brain suddenly put two and two together. "Wait, you're the architect she was telling me about?"

"Guilty," Toby confirmed. "Or, sort of guilty, I guess. I've still got to pass my licensure exam, but I need a certain amount of work experience before I can take it."

"You're an architect?" Spencer said, trying to decide if she was surprised by that. She knew Toby was a talented carpenter and that he'd sketched out designs from time to time. In another place, it would have made perfect sense that he'd gone on to study architecture. But with their past, she couldn't quite make sense of when he would have gotten the degree to be considered an architect in the first place.

"I had a lot of time on my hands over the last several years," he said, answering her unspoken question. "I needed to keep myself busy so I took some classes, ended up with a degree."

"That's great, Toby," Spencer said, meaning it. The small part of her that didn't resent Toby for his actions was genuinely happy for him.

"And you're an interior designer," he replied. "Bet the Hastings loved that." He knew as well as the next person that Veronica and Peter Hastings planned for Spencer to become a lawyer, just like them.

"It went over well," Spencer said. "They avoided discussing my career choice at all costs until one of their friends at the club came up to my mom and gushed about how much she loved her living room after I was done with it. Then my parents asked me to do the entire downstairs of their house."

"Did you?" Toby asked.

"Yep. Charged them time and a half too." Toby chuckled.

"No family discount?" he asked, teasing her.

"Are you kidding?" Spencer scoffed. "I charged Melissa double." Toby laughed then, a whole, true laugh that made Spencer smile slightly. Toby hadn't laughed much when they were together – no one had laughed much during that time – but she'd always loved the sound when he did.

"How is Melissa these days?" he asked. It was a relatively safe topic, all things considered. He had no idea why Spencer was sitting across from him, what she wanted, if she wanted anything at all. All he knew was he had a deep-rooted need to keep her there, talking with him as long as she possibly would.

"She's doing well," Spencer replied after she chewed the bite of wrap she'd just taken. "She's married now. A nice, boring guy named Michael that she met a few years ago after he moved into the condo next to hers. They have a little girl, Abby. She'll be two next month. And she's officially my favorite Hastings."

"Sounds like things turned out all right for her," Toby said. Spencer nodded.

"Yeah, they did," she agreed. A waitress came to their table to offer Toby a refill. Spencer took the opportunity to really look at him for the first time.

His features had become more distinguished with age, his jawline more pronounced. His hair was cut short, the way she'd liked it when they were dating, and his fitted long sleeve t-shirt did little to hide the fact that his muscles were as defined as they'd ever been. What she noticed most though were the dark circles under his eyes, a telltale sign that he hadn't been sleeping. He turned back to her once the waitress walked away. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.

"Why'd you come back?" she blurted out. She watched as surprise crossed his features. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I knew that question was coming," he said, more to himself than Spencer. He met her eyes, knowing she deserved the truth instead of the standard 'it was time I paid my family a visit' answer he'd bestowed on the few who had asked him about his return, all friends of his father or stepmother. "My dad…" Toby stopped, finding the words harder than he thought they'd be. He hadn't actually said them out loud. He took a deep breath.

"My dad is sick," he told Spencer. "Really sick. He asked me to come home. I couldn't really deny him."

"Oh, Toby," Spencer said, vaguely recalling that Mr. Cavanaugh had been diagnosed with cancer a couple years ago. He'd undergone treatment and had been in remission ever since. There had been no sign of Toby back then. "I'm so sorry…" Toby shook his head.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said. "He's sick. It is what it is."

"They can treat him, right?" Spencer asked. "Modern medicine does amazing things now…"

"They can prolong his life," Toby told her. "Make him comfortable. But that's about it. It's terminal this time."

"I'm so sorry," Spencer said again. She both marveled at and hated the fact that she could still feel any sort of compassion towards Toby. That she was somehow sitting across from him, having a relatively normal conversation.

"Thanks," Toby said, giving her a small smile. He looked away then, turning his attention briefly from Spencer to stirring sugar into his coffee. He needed just a moment to pull himself together, to remind him that Spencer wasn't his anymore, that she was merely saying what people said in these situations and the pull he felt towards her was one-sided. Doing his best to shove aside his feelings, he turned back to Spencer.

"I should get back to work," she said, balling up her wrapper.

"I probably should too," Toby said, picking up his pencil again. Spencer stood, gathering her things.

"What firm are you working for?" she asked. She'd worked with a number of area architecture firms and for her own benefit, wanted to know which one Toby was employed by.

"My dad's, actually," he said. Spencer's mouth formed an 'o.' She had completely forgotten that Richard Cavanaugh was an architect. She hadn't worked on any of his builds, but had seen his name floating around here and there, usually in the design newsletters, blogs and magazines she subscribed to.

"I'd forgotten he was an architect," Spencer said.

"He's been taking on fewer jobs lately," Toby explained. "Because of his health and all."

"That's understandable," Spencer replied. She gave Toby a smile. "Thanks again," she said. "I really do need to get back to work." Toby nodded in understanding.

"Bye, Spencer," he said.

"Bye," she replied. Toby was prepared to watch her walk through the front door near where he was seated. He was shocked yet again when she headed towards the back of The Brew and up the stairs that led to his old loft. He turned back to his blueprints with a shake of his head. So much had changed in the last five years, but one thing had stayed the same – Spencer Hastings was still full of surprises.

* * *

**Now you know what brought Toby back to Rosewood. And (a little of) what he's been up to these past five years. Let me know what you think, please! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all so much for your reviews! I wish I had time to reply to them all but I promise I read them and love them! **

**Some of you have asked some great questions in your reviews. I promise, you WILL find out all the answers - what happened to your favorite characters, Red Coat, -A, and most importantly, why Toby left.**

**This chapter is an important one. Forgiveness is a major theme of this story - not just of one another but of selves. It is a Toby/Spencer centric story but there are other smaller storylines sprinkled throughout, such as the one with Toby and his father. **

**And there are SO many clues and hints within this chapter that just sort of fell into place - read close!**

* * *

"You had lunch with him?" Hanna shrieked, nearly spilling her tumbler of water. "Spencer!"

"Not _with_ him," Spencer replied, exasperated by Hanna's dramatic reaction to the news that she'd had lunch with Toby. "At the same table as him. I ate my lunch _at the same table_ he happened to be sitting at. We did not eat lunch _together_."

"Same thing!" Hanna looked like someone had just told her Fashion Week was canceled. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know!" Spencer finally relented. She truly had no idea why she had joined Toby at The Brew the previous day. She laid her head on her crossed arms, resting on her countertop. Her dog Max jumped at her feet, trying to grab her attention, but she ignored him, too busy rehashing the previous day. "He was sitting there and I swear, it was like someone took control of my body, walked me to his table, asked to sit down and started talking."

"Let's call Ted," Hanna advised, referring to her stepfather. "He can perform an exorcism. Because clearly, you are possessed." Spencer gave her a dirty look.

"I don't think I need Ted to cast out any demons, Han."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hanna replied. "You did have lunch with Toby Cavanaugh."

"Why did I sit down with him?" Spencer asked, pondering the question that had been bouncing around her head for the last 24 hours out loud.

"That's what I've been asking!" Hanna exclaimed. Spencer sighed and lifted her arms from her head.

"It just… Felt like the right thing to do at the time." Hanna fixed Spencer with the most serious expression in her arsenal.

"How do you feel about him being here?" she asked Spencer. "I know it's been five years, but he just up and left. You never got any sort of closure, no explanation as to why. He rides back into town on his motorcycle and suddenly you're making small talk at The Grill and having lunch with him. What's going on in that too smart, overly caffeinated head of yours?"

Spencer didn't respond right away. It was the same question Aria had asked her and she didn't have much of an answer then. Now, she thought she might have a little more of an idea.

"Confused," she told Hanna. "I feel confused."

"Clearly," Hanna agreed.

"Not helping," Spencer chided.

"I'm sorry," Hanna said gently. "It's just classic Toby, coming back into your life, charming you with how sweet he can be. And then he turns around and does something that leaves you devastated. Big things, Spencer, like joining the –A team or just disappearing without so much as a goodbye post it note."

"I know," Spencer admitted. "But, if we're both going to live in a small town, then we're going to run in to one another. I may as well be civil, right?"

"No," Hanna said with a shake of her head. "You think I'd be civil if I ran into someone I hate?" Spencer chuckled, knowing Hanna wouldn't have given Toby the time of day and likely would have walked all the way back to Rosewood in her five inch stilettos if she'd been the one with a flat tire. "Did he at least tell you why he came back?" Spencer nodded.

"Mr. Cavanaugh's cancer is back," she told Hanna. "He asked Toby to come home. Apparently there's not much they can do this time. "

"My mom mentioned Judith telling her his cancer had come back," Hanna remembered, pulling out a piece of information she'd heard and dismissed, too preoccupied with her boutique and Caleb to pay attention to her mother's daily gossip-fueled phone call. "Did Toby say anything about why he left? Or what he's been doing since he left?"

"He didn't say why he left and I didn't ask," Spencer said. "Apparently, he's been going to college somewhere. He's an architect now. In fact, he's the architect on Mrs. Sanford's house." Hanna raised an eyebrow.

"How convenient," she said. "He comes back into town and just so happens to be working on the same job as you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spencer asked with a bit of an accusatory tone.

"It means I wouldn't be surprised if I start getting texts from –A again. Or –B, -C, whoever."

"That's not going to happen, Han," Spencer said. "Ezra, CeCe, Mona, they're all behind bars for the rest of their lives. –A nor any other letter is going to come back to haunt us."

"Maybe it'll be a –T this time," Hanna grumbled.

"Hanna," Spencer warned. "Aria will be here any minute."

"I'll drop it," Hanna said with a dramatic sigh. "Just… Spence? Promise me you'll be careful?"

"I promise," Spencer said. "It's not like I'm planning to ride off into the sunset with him or anything."

"You say that now," Hanna said with a hint of doubt. She knew Spencer Hastings too well. "But Toby Cavanaugh is your crepitate."

"Kryptonite, Han. Crepitate means 'to crack."

"Whatever," Hanna said with a shake of her head. "And how do you even know that?"

"I have no idea," Spencer admitted, long ago accepting that she was a vault of useless knowledge, remembering every little thing she'd ever read or been told. The sound of a car door shutting made its way to their ears and sent Max to the door, barking wildly. "Aria's here."

"Right on time too," Hanna said, sliding off the stool she was perched on and heading towards Spencer's oven. "Dinner is ready."

* * *

Toby let a curse word fall from his lips as he pulled into his driveway and saw the car parked there. He was never in the mood to deal with Jenna or Noel Kahn, but after a day spent working with a new client that had proved even more indecisive than Mrs. Sanford, his patience for other people, especially people he didn't like to begin with, was thin. He took a few deep breaths then headed inside.

Inside the door, he paused to take off his work boots. They were caked in mud from surveying the build site. He took the opportunity to listen, find out where everyone was in the house. It sounded like his stepmother was in the kitchen while Jenna and Noel were in the living room with his father and, apparently, leaving. Toby was fine with that. He could play nice for a few minutes.

"Good evening," he said as he entered the living room.

"Hey, son," his father greeted. Toby took in his appearance as he did every day. He looked good today, healthy even. His color was good and he appeared strong. His next chemo treatment was in a couple of days however and Toby knew it would be downhill from there.

"Hey," Toby replied. "Jenna, Noel," he added with a polite nod.

"Hi, Tobes," Jenna said with sickening sweetness. "Welcome back to Rosewood."

"Yeah, long time, no see," Noel said.

"It's been a while," Toby said, forcing polite conversation. He'd have been just fine with never seeing his stepsister or her Neanderthal husband again.

"Didn't waste much time catching up with Spencer Hastings though, did you?" Noel asked with a glint in his eye. "It's all over town that the two of you had lunch together yesterday." Toby felt his heartbeat quicken slightly, not liking that he was already back in the Rosewood rumor mill.

"It wasn't lunch," Toby responded. "I was working at The Brew – you know, that thing most people do to earn a paycheck? – and she sat down while she was on a lunch break." Noel chose to ignore Toby's well-placed jab about his trust fund status. Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh didn't agree with his – or Jenna's – lack of ambition since they graduated high school and he knew enough to let it slide, at least in front of Jenna's stepfather.

"It's all in the eye of the beholder," Jenna said with smug smirk that made Toby's jaw tighten.

"Jenna? You're still here?" His stepmother said, walking into the living room. She handed her husband a glass of tea. "I thought you and Noel had dinner reservations in the city?" She'd come under the pretense of bringing Richard something to drink, but was actually trying to keep the peace.

"We do," Jenna said with a tight smile at her mother. "Noel, we should get going." They booth stood from where they'd been sitting on the couch.

"Thanks for stopping by," Richard told them. He returned the hug Jenna gave him and shook Noel's offered hand.

"We'll be by again soon," Jenna said. She hugged her mother although the tension between the two could be cut with a knife. "Bye, Toby."

"See you," Toby said, taking a seat on the couch they'd abandoned. They left, Judith walking with them towards the door.

"She really is a piece of work," Richard commented, looking over at his son. "I'll never forgive myself for not seeing it sooner."

"Water under the bridge," Toby said with a shake of his head.

"It's not," Richard said. "But we know we can't change it, so we may as well move forward."

Toby didn't say anything. As things had blown up in Rosewood in the months after he'd left, a number of Jenna's indiscretions, including the truth about the nature of their relationship and what actually happened the night Jenna lost her sight, had come to light. It had been part of what had prompted his father and stepmother to reach out to him, to start mending the damage that had been done. They would never quite be healed and Toby would never completely warm up to his stepmother, but with effort, the three had a decent relationship now.

"Toby? Have you had dinner?" Judith asked, popping her head into the living room.

"Not yet," he answered.

"Good. Your father requested lasagna, salad and garlic bread. I ended up with enough to feed an army. It will be ready soon."

"Sounds great," Toby replied. Judith gave him a smile and left the room again.

"So," his father started. "You had lunch with Spencer? That must have been what Judith was trying to tell me earlier, but I was watching the recap of the Steelers' preseason game so I couldn't tell you a single thing she said."

"It wasn't lunch," Toby said again. "I was working on the Sanford blueprints and she sat down at my table. Apparently her office is the loft above The Brew."

"She's quite the designer from what I've heard," Richard said thoughtfully. "I've seen her work in a few magazines, blogs."

"She's doing the Sanford house," Toby told his father.

"Is she, now?" Richard said, his interest peaked. "I guess that means you'll be seeing a lot of her?"

"Maybe," Toby said with a shrug. "Maybe not. Her work starts after mine finishes."

"You know, the two of you always reminded me of your mom and me. I had that same fool in love look on my face that you had, every single time I was around her, right up until the day she was gone."

"I didn't know you paid any attention to Spencer and me," he said.

"I saw more than you think," Richard told him. "Knowing what I know now – about Jenna, -A, Alison, all of it – I should have stepped up, been a parent. I just…," he sighed. "After you mom passed away, part of me died with her. I love Judith but it was always your mother for me. Just like it was always Judith's husband for her." Toby often forgot that Judith's first husband, Jenna's father, had died while deployed overseas. Like his own mother, it was a subject rarely talked about in the modern day Cavanaugh house.

"Like you just said, it's in the past. Nothing we can do to change it," he replied. He didn't want to discuss any of this, not now and possibly not ever.

"Are you sure there's no hope for reconciliation between you and Spencer?" Richard asked.

"I'm sure," Toby replied. This was the second time that week they'd had this very same conversation. "That ship has sailed. There's too much history there for Spencer to ever forgive me."

"Judith and I hurt you too," Richard reminded his son somberly. "And yet we were able to forgive one another and move on."

"That's different," Toby said. "We're family."

"Never say never," Richard said, leaning back in his chair. "If you found it in your heart to forgive me, to forgive Judith, even. I wouldn't say it's so out of the realm of possibility that Spencer might find it in her heart to forgive you for whatever you did – if you want her to, of course." Toby didn't say anything, instead focusing on his phone, scanning through his emails and reading the one text message he'd gotten that day – from his father. "How's the study going for your licensure exam?" Richard asked, changing gears.

"Good," Toby replied, putting his phone away, glad for the change of conversation. "I mean, it's not brand new information or anything. I'm just working through the study guides, re-reading material. It should be a breeze."

"When do you take it?"

"About six weeks." Richard nodded.

"I've heard a lot of good feedback about your work," he said. "Clients are very happy. So is John." John was Richard's partner in his firm, Cavanaugh and Jones, and had been serving as a mentor of sorts for Toby since he'd started working with him a couple months ago, first remotely and then in the office.

"John's been great," Toby said. "He's taught me a lot, even in the short time I've been working with him."

"He says you're more talented than me. I resent that." Richard tried to look stern, but his eyes sparkled, proud his son had ended up following in his footsteps, despite their rocky past.

"Well I am a lot younger than the both of you," Toby teased, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. Richard chuckled.

"There's actually something I want to talk to you about," he started, his tone suddenly serious. Toby looked at him.

"I'm listening."

"I'd like you to take over my half of the firm," he told Toby. "You have the talent, but more importantly, you have the passion for it. I don't know what your plan is, whether you're planning on sticking around here or moving on, but the Cavanaugh half of the firm is yours, if you want it."

Toby's breath left him in a big 'woosh.' He hadn't had a clue about what his father wanted to talk about, but offering him his half of the firm wasn't what he expected. He loved architecture, found solace in the intricate designs he crafted. He could sit for hours, sketching lines and arches until they all joined into something beautiful. It was the one source of comfort he had in his life. But taking over his father's half of his firm was something he hadn't expected, hadn't even considered.

He didn't have plans for what was ahead, didn't know where he wanted to go from Rosewood. His only concrete plan was that he wasn't going anywhere until his father was gone, whether that was weeks or months from now. He'd planned to figure out his next move sometime after that, decide where he'd go next from there.

He wasn't entirely against the idea of taking over the firm. The office was about 45 minutes outside of Rosewood, just far enough outside of downtown Philadelphia to not be in the heart of the city. He'd spent much of the last month renting a room in Philly and getting his feet wet with the firm until moving back to his parents to be closer to his father. But taking over the firm meant he'd be staying in or at least around Rosewood. There was a lot within the town limits – and outside of them – that he just as soon forget.

"Can I think about it?" he asked. "I'm thrilled you asked me, but it's a lot to take in."

"I don't expect you to give me an answer right now," Richard confirmed. "Take some time, think it over. John is more than okay with it. He'll be retiring in a few years so there's the opportunity to take over the whole firm for yourself, if that's what you'd want."

"I'll think about it," Toby agreed.

"You really don't seem thrilled about the offer, no matter what you say," Richard told him. He'd taken in how Toby had tensed up at his offer, how he'd taken his feet off the coffee table and was now hunched over, elbows resting on his knees. He was especially observant of his son these days, the dark circles under his eyes and the late night pacing coming from his room not going unnoticed.

"It's a little overwhelming," Toby said truthfully. "A lot to take in." Richard nodded in agreement, just as Judith called them for dinner.

"Just give it some thought," Richard said as he pushed himself out of the chair with some effort, Toby on his feet and ready to help him if he needed to. "And remember what I said about Spencer, too."

Toby followed him to the kitchen where Judith had already plated food for each of them around the table. He'd never admit it to his father, but for the first time, the tiniest bubble of hope was forming somewhere deep in his chest that Spencer might find it in her to forgive him someday. And if she did, he'd never make her doubt him again.

* * *

**Toby's coming around to the idea of him and Spencer - and I'm really liking this father of his that I've created. :) **

**Let me know what you think! (And any theories you may have - I love reading those!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you, yet again, for your wonderful comments and reviews! Some of you were asking for more Spoby - there's plenty to come - and some below! Stay with me - I've got quite the web untangle with all this whole forgiveness thing. :)**

* * *

Spencer loved Saturday mornings. She'd made it a point to reserve the day for herself, for having some 'Spencer' time, usually followed by an evening with her friends or, sometimes, a movie at her place, just herself and Max and a bowl of popcorn, maybe a glass of wine. This morning, she'd decided to indulge in an unhealthy breakfast at a sidewalk table of her favorite breakfast spot in Rosewood which was spread out on two plates in front of her, Max at her feet.

"Hi, Spencer," came a familiar voice. Spencer looked up from her book as Max jumped to his feet, ready to defend his owner or beg for attention, whichever the situation warranted.

"Hey, Ali," she said, greeting her old friend. Ali gave her a smile as she leaned over to rub Max's head briefly. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been busy student teaching," Ali said. "Turns out, it's a lot harder to stand up in front of a room of third graders and get them to take you seriously than it looks." Spencer chuckled.

"Want to sit?" she asked, nodding at the empty seat across from her. She saw Ali's eyes light up at the chance to join her for breakfast.

"Sure," she said. "Thanks." She joined Spencer, sparing a few moments to pet Max again. "You're out early for a Saturday."

"Breakfast called," Spencer said as she speared a chunk of waffle with her fork. "The same can be said for you. The Ali I know slept until at least noon on weekends."

"That was the old Ali," she replied. "The new Ali gets up with the chickens and is inside with her doors locked and pajamas on before dark most days. Chalk it up to being a teacher in training who is expected at Rosewood elementary at 7AM every morning." Spencer knew Ali still had trouble believing she was safe and made an effort to be in for the night before dark more out of fear than responsibility. She let it go though, not willing to dredge up the past.

"How's student teaching going?" she asked instead. "Besides the whole not being taken seriously thing."

"It's actually really great," Ali said, a smile forming. "It's definitely had its moments and I'm already looking forward to fall break even though school's only been in session a couple of weeks, but I really do love it. I was actually planning to work on some lesson plans over breakfast this morning. At least until I got a better offer." The two women shared a smile. A waitress interrupted, coming outside to take Ali's order.

Of everyone involved in the –A scheme, Ali had ultimately lost the most and still suffered the most from the effects of it all. The experience of faking her own death, of going into hiding until she couldn't hide anymore, had taken a very real and heavy toll on the once vibrant girl. She was no longer overly confident, fearless. She was timid now, content to stay in the shadows as much as possible, keep strangers at a distance.

The girls were friendly with Ali, but they weren't the best of friends anymore. They all held grudges, varying from anger at Ali for letting them think she was dead and faking her death so elaborately to what her actions had ultimately resulted in. Of all of them, Spencer had forged the most solid relationship with Ali, in large part because they shared a brother, but they weren't going to have a sleepover anytime soon.

"Thanks for letting me sit," Ali said to Spencer. "It's nice to have a meal with an old friend every once in a while."

"You don't have to thank me, Ali," Spencer said. "Like you said, we're old friends."

"That means a lot," Ali said genuinely. Spencer could practically see the sadness rolling off of her.

"Ali? Is everything okay?" Spencer asked. Ali gave her a watery smile.

"Labor Day was last week," she reminded Spencer. "Let's just say the anniversary of my fake death wasn't exactly a cause for celebration in the DiLaurentis family. My mom and I had a big fight and, well, it's just been a little harder than it usually is to fit in, try to have a normal life."

"I'm sorry," Spencer said. "I really am, Ali. You've been through a lot."

"We all have," Ali said. They both knew Ali would forever hold on to a deep rooted guilt that she'd caused the people she loved so much hurt. She hadn't even known what was going on for the first two years, content living as someone else far away from Rosewood, assuming life had moved on without her.

"Hey, Aria and I were planning on getting dinner at that new Italian place that just opened up down from The Brew later this week. Why don't you come with us?" Spencer offered. She found herself wanting to help Ali, cheer her up, work on their relationship.

"I'm not sure Aria would be okay with that," she said.

"Aria would love it," Spencer assured her. Aria too had forged a decent relationship with Ali. It was Hanna who, not surprisingly, kept her distance.

"I'll think about it," Ali conceded. Spencer made a mental note to have Aria call her later that week and extend her own offer so Ali would know she was welcome. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Spencer replied. "Although I reserve the right not to answer." Ali let out a light laugh.

"I heard you were having lunch with Toby Cavanaugh the other day. Are you – considering getting back together with him?" Spencer sighed. Her mother had also asked her about Toby. Apparently it was the talk of the town, thanks in large part to Zach reporting back to Ella who had proceeded to pass the gossip on to Ashley Marin and Veronica Hastings. Spencer had reason to suspect Ashley Marin had a lot more to do with spreading the gossip than her own mother.

"I wasn't having lunch with him," Spencer said, repeating what she'd said each time she'd been asked about it. "I just sat down at the table where he was working. It was nothing." She eyed Ali then. "Why are you asking?" Ali stirred some creamer into the coffee the waitress had brought her.

"You really loved him," she told Spencer. She hadn't been around to witness it, but she knew their story, from beginning to end. "And he really loved you. You loved each other in a real, pure way that doesn't just go away. And I just… Well… I don't know how you feel about him and I know I'm speaking out of turn, but Spencer, if there's still something there, I think you should figure out what it is."

Spencer was sure her jaw was slack. As much as Ali had changed, as much as she had lost her privileged, self-righteous demeanor in favor of a much more subdued, introverted nature, it seemed she still had a hint of boldness somewhere deep down in her.

"That is rather brave of you," Spencer told her. "For what it's worth, I'm not planning on getting involved with Toby Cavanaugh in anyway shape or form." Ali nodded in understanding.

"There's a lot of power in forgiveness," Ali said solemnly. "Just remember that." The waitress returned with Ali's breakfast and a coffee refill for Spencer. "So how is work going?"

Spencer grinned at her friend for changing the topic and launched into details about her latest project and, once she'd exhausted that, turned the conversation back to Ali and her studies to become a teacher. By the time they parted ways, Spencer had even convinced her to have dinner with her and Aria later that week.

Walking back to her house, Max leading the way, Spencer couldn't help but think of what Ali had said about forgiveness. She'd forgiven a lot of people over the years for a number of things, both great and small. She'd had to. If she hadn't forgiven the people who had hurt her – her parents, her sister, her friends, even – she would have had no one.

Ali had been right in saying there was power in it. She'd tried holding on to the hurt and anger once everything was finally over but it had nearly killed her, nearly cost her everything, ultimately. And so she had forgiven her family, her friends. And as hard as it had been in some cases, particularly with her sister, it had turned out to be the best thing she'd ever done.

Maybe there were a few more people she needed to consider forgiving too.

* * *

Toby didn't know for sure how long he'd been running, but he did know it had been a while. It had been a long day and in a desperate need to get out of his parents' house, he had put on a pair of tennis shoes and left, barely taking the time to stretch.

As he ran through Rosewood's park, he saw a familiar brunette jogging up ahead. Grinning, he sped up and caught up to her easily. She jumped when he came up beside her. When she realized who it was, she came to a stop and pulled out her earphones.

"Toby!" Spencer exclaimed. "You scared me!"

"Sorry about that," Toby said, hands on his hips as he took a few deep breaths. Even with his loose-fitting tank top drenched in sweat, Spencer couldn't help but appreciate that he was still as handsome as ever.

"So did you take a shower before you came out here or what?" Spencer asked. "You're drenched and it's not even hot out." It was barely sixty degrees, fall coming quick to Rosewood.

"I've been running for a while," Toby admitted. "No idea how long I've been out here."

"Training for a marathon?" Spencer quipped.

"More like getting away from Chateau Cavanaugh for a few minutes. It's been a – rough day around there." Spencer felt herself automatically grow concerned.

"Is your dad okay?" she asked.

"For now," Toby said. "Ask again on Tuesday, after he's had his chemo therapy. But today, he decided it would be a great time to talk about his funeral arrangements." Spencer let out a breath, hardly able to imagine what it would be like to sit around the kitchen table, discussing a family member's burial with the very same family member who was currently amongst the living.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she said with a shake of her head. She looked at him for a moment, thinking. Then she made a decision. "I was planning on clocking a couple more miles. Want to join?" Toby, his father's words about forgiveness still ringing in his head, couldn't stop himself from agreeing.

"If you think you can keep up," he said. Just as he'd suspected they would, Spencer's eyes narrowed at the challenge, her competitive instincts coming alive.

"I can lap you in my sleep," she informed him.

"I've put in an awful lot of time at the gym in recent years," Toby replied. "Better hurry if you think you've got a chance at keeping pace." With that, he set off at a run.

"Hey!" Spencer shouted. She took off after him and within seconds, she was matching his stride. He let her set the course, following her if she turned, falling a couple steps behind her if the trail narrowed too much, returning alongside her when the path widened again.

Spencer could feel her legs starting to burn as she drew in air through her nose and pushed it back out through her mouth. It was a faster pace than what she was used to, Toby obviously not lying when he said he'd logged a lot of gym time, but she wouldn't dare slow, even as they ran through the town square. She finally slowed to a walk when they turned onto her street.

"This is me," she said, nodding towards her house a few places down.

"Convenient," Toby said with a grin. He was just as sweaty as ever but barely winded. "You were getting tired."

"Was not. I kept pace the whole time."

"But could you have kept it up another mile or so?" Spencer glared at him. They both knew she had reached her limit, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

"Go take a shower," she said instead, making Toby laugh. He reached out and let his hand run along the neighbor's chain-linked fence as they walked towards her sidewalk.

"Thanks for letting me crash your run," he told her. Spencer glanced at him.

"We've been doing that a lot lately," she said. "Saying thank you." She'd only just realized it, but of the encounters they'd had since Toby returned, all of them had involved a certain level of gratitude. Perhaps it was just them being cordial. After all, there was a lot unsaid between the two.

"Guess it could be worse," Toby ventured. Spencer was about to ask him what he meant when he let out a cry of pain and jerked his hand away from the fence.

"What?" Spencer asked, stopping on the sidewalk. "What happened?"

"Piece of loose wire got me," he said, cradling his injured hand in his non-injured one. "It's nothing." Spencer looked at his hand and could see it was already bleeding at a steady flow.

"Gushing blood isn't nothing," she told him. "Come on. I've got a first aid kit. Let's get that cleaned up." She started towards her house, but several steps later, realized Toby wasn't following her. She turned to see him hovering at the end of her sidewalk.

"It's not that bad, Spencer," he said. "I'll rinse it out when I get home, slap a band aid on it."

"Home is like a mile down the road," she told him. "Just come inside, okay? We'll clean it up, wrap some gauze around it." Toby still seemed to hesitate. "Toby, I'm not going to bite." Toby wasn't entirely sure about that but he drew in a breath and against his better judgment, followed her up the path to her front door.

He stood several steps behind her as she unattached the keys from a loop in the pocket of her running jacket. He was nervous, his heartbeat quickening and not from the run, as he waited for Spencer to unlock her door. It was one thing to make small talk with her in public. It was a whole other to be alone with her in the privacy of her own home.

The lock clicked and Spencer pushed the door open. Almost instantly, there was a small bundle of black and fur flying around their feet, jumping and letting out whines of excitement at their appearance. "Max, hi!" Spencer said with a tone of voice Toby had never heard her use. The blur stopped just long enough for him to realize it was actually a small dog, overly excited to see his owner. Spencer made over him for a few moments before moving further into the home. The dog was off again, running circles around the house.

"That's Max," Spencer explained as Toby tried to keep up with the dog's antics. "He gets pretty excited when I come home – whether I'm gone for an hour or all day."

"He's tiny," Toby commented. He followed Spencer into her kitchen where she flipped on a light.

"Five whole pounds," Spencer confirmed. She handed him a rag. "Have a seat and hold this on your hand. I'll be right back with the first aid kit." She was gone before Toby could respond.

He sat down on a stool and waited. Max returned from somewhere in the house and dropped a ball at his feet. Toby looked down at him curiously. The dog turned a circle and sat down. When Toby didn't move to pick up the ball, he picked it up, dropped it even closer to him, turned another circle and sat once more. Toby grinned and reached for the small rubber ball, tossed it lightly across the kitchen. The dog was after it in a flash.

The game continued, the dog returning the ball and dropping it at his feet obediently. He took the chance to look around Spencer's house as he tossed the ball. It was comfortable, Spencer's touches all over it, right down to the neatly placed throw pillows in shades of purple on her eggshell couch. The place was soft and feminine and even though he knew it shouldn't be, at least not to him, welcoming.

"Sorry about him," Spencer said as she returned with her first aid kit. Max brought Toby back the ball. "He's sort of the center of attention around here."

"He's cute," Toby said. "In a tiny, pocket-dog like way." Spencer gave him a smile.

"Come over to the sink," she directed. "Let's rinse your hand off, see what the damage is." Toby agreed, stood by her as she turned on the water then stuck his hand under the cool stream. The blood rinsed away easily, revealing a long, thin cut across his hand.

"Doesn't look too bad," he said.

"No," Spencer agreed. "You won't need stiches. The hand just has a lot of tiny vessels in it. A tiny paper cut bleeds enough to make you think you're losing a limb." The side of Toby's mouth turned upward, thinking of how Spencer knew random facts about everything, including vessels in hands. She retrieved the first aid kit and a clean cloth. "Here," she said, reaching for Toby's hand.

It was the first time in five years that they'd touched one another, but the shot of electricity that passed through them was as familiar as it had ever been. Neither of them acknowledged it, but they both gave a moment of pause before Spence gently dried Toby's hand, drawing in a shaky breath as she did so. It felt too right, too familiar, to have his hand in hers again, even if it was only to clean a wound.

She forced herself to focus as she reached for a bottle of peroxide and poured it over Toby's hand. He winced as the cool liquid made contact, instinctively tried to pull away, but Spencer, anticipating the move, held firm, pulled his hand back towards her.

"Stop being a baby," she said, looking up at him. Their eyes met and Spencer had to remind herself to take a deep breath. She carefully coated the wound with an antibacterial cream and then wrapped some gauze around it. "All set." She let go then, Toby's hand falling limply at his side. She was suddenly cold.

"Thanks," Toby said. Then he grinned. "Again." Spencer chuckled.

"You're welcome," she said. A level of awkwardness fell between them. Spencer, in need of filling the space, took a few steps back and opened a cabinet. "Want something to drink? Water, maybe? Hydrating after the run and all that."

"I'm good," Toby said although all he wanted to say was yes, both out of thirst and to stay with Spencer a little longer. Max was still at his feet, occasionally standing on two legs and pawing at him in an effort to get his attention. He bent down to retrieve his ball and threw it one more time. "I should be getting home."

"Do you… Need a ride?" Spencer asked, more to be polite more than anything.

"No," Toby said with a shake of his head. "I'm in no hurry to get home. Walking there will only delay the inevitable."

"If you're sure," Spencer said.

"I am," Toby confirmed. Max dropped the ball at his feet again. Spencer bent down and scooped him up.

"He likes you," she said. She was a bit surprised. Max was timid, didn't warm up to new people often. And yet here he was, instantly Toby's best friend. Toby reached out and scratched his head for a moment.

"I like him too," he said. "I should get going." Spencer nodded and walked with him to the door. "Thanks again for the medical treatment," he said with a grin as he opened the door. Spencer couldn't help but smile, the thank yous somehow becoming a joke between the two of them. "See you, Spencer."

"Bye, Toby," Spencer said. She shut the door and watched through the blinds as he walked down her sidewalk and then turn in the direction of his parents' house. "Max," she said, absentmindedly rubbing his head, "we are in so much trouble."

* * *

**Spencer is in so much trouble... :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**WHEW! This is quite a long chapter. And I think it will give you a bit of an idea of what's to come. **

**Thank you all so much for all of your reviews last chapter. I just loved them! **

* * *

Spencer threw her door open with gusto.

"Emily!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around her old friend. It had been a few months since they'd last seen one another and Spencer had found herself missing her more than usual as of late.

"Spencer!" Emily responded, squeezing Spencer back tightly. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Me too!" Spencer said, breaking away. "Hurry up! Come inside!" She noticed then that Emily was alone. "Where's Krista?" she asked.

"She stayed at my parents,'" Emily said, following Spencer to her living room. "She's working remotely today and tomorrow so she can save her vacation time for the holidays since we'll be doing a lot of traveling to see our families. She said to tell you hello and that she'll see you at dinner tomorrow night."

"If she must be responsible," Spencer said with a grin. The girls got comfortable on Spencer's couch.

"Max! Come here!" Emily said, calling Spencer's dog. It was the closest thing any of the girls had to a child. The dog stayed rooted to Spencer's side, studying Emily. "Come on!" Emily tried again. She picked up a nearby toy and tossed it for him to fetch. He watched it as it landed and bounced across the floor, then turned his attention back to Emily.

"He'll warm up to you soon," Spencer said, reaching down to scratch his back affectionately. "You know how he is."

"Yeah, a total Mama's boy," Emily said with amusement. Spencer laughed. Max did stick close to her, whether she had company or not.

"How's the new apartment coming along?" she asked. "Need my expert advice yet?"

"Not yet," Emily admitted. "We've been so slammed with work and stuff that we're still unpacking. I'll Skype you in if we ever get the living room unpacked. But we've talked about me and Krista and our new apartment and my swim team every time I've talked to you lately. Tables are turning. What's new with you? How's work going? How's life?"

"Work is going great," Spencer said. There was a hint of pride in her voice. "I actually had to turn down a job the other day. It was a small one. A woman at the end of my street wanted me to re-do her entry way. I probably could have squeezed it in, but with the Sanford house and a few other projects, I just didn't think I could give it the attention it deserved."

"That's awesome though, Spencer. Remember when we all graduated from our respective colleges and you were terrified no one would hire you and you'd be a complete failure?" Spencer grinned guiltily.

"Vividly," she admitted. "I'm so thankful everything is going so well. It could be so much worse." She had heard the horror stories of her fellow classmates, seen their Facebook status updates begging for leads on jobs, interior design or otherwise.

"It could," Emily agreed. She'd had a hard time finding a coaching job after college and had spent more than a year working menial part time jobs to make ends meet. "Now tell me about the juicy stuff. Has Hanna's mom managed to convince you to go out with Ted's nephew yet?"

"No," Spencer said with conviction. "I had the pleasure of meeting him briefly at Hanna's Fourth of July cookout, remember? He is absolutely not my type."

"Hanna said as much," Emily agreed with a laugh. "I think she called him a _Star Wars _castoff with a plaid fetish?"

"Sounds about right," Spencer agreed. "I talked to him for all of five minutes and he spent that telling me how he was going to a Hobbit convention the next week." Emily laughed lightly.

"What about Toby?" she asked. "Anymore run ins with him?" Spencer eyed her.

"I'm sure you've heard all about our literal run through Rosewood yesterday – even though you only rolled into town around midnight."

"What?" Emily said, her eyes big as she took in what Spencer could tell was brand new information. "What run? What happened?" Spencer yet again found herself discussing a chance meeting with Toby with one of her friends except she knew Emily wouldn't turn judgmental like Hanna or offer jaded advice like Aria.

"I was out for a run yesterday and he happened to be too. Our paths crossed in the park and we ended up running together."

"How fun," Emily quipped with a knowing smile on her face.

"Oh that's not all," Spencer told her. "He cut his hand on the fence a few houses down and next thing you know, I've made him come inside so I could clean it up. I don't know why I couldn't just send him home bleeding."

"Because you can't. But never mind that, what happened next?" Emily pressed. Spencer had to make a quick decision. She could glaze over the facts, tell Emily it was nothing. Or she could tell Emily the truth. If it had been Aria or Hanna in front of her, she would have made a different decision. But this was Emily.

"He's getting under my skin," she admitted. "There's something different about him. I don't know what it is. How could I? I haven't seen him in five years. But there's just – something. I can't explain it. But it's like deep down, I know this thing about Toby. I don't know what that thing is, but I feel like it's important."

"There was a time when you knew him better than anyone," Emily reminded her. "And when he knew you better than even we did. I don't think that goes away, Spencer."

"I don't think I knew him as well as I thought I did," Spencer confessed. "I really believed – and still do – that he joined the A Team to protect me. But I didn't think he'd take off again, let me worry and wonder and think about things I still don't like to think about."

"I've been thinking about him a lot since you told me he was back," Emily ventured. Spencer raised an eyebrow, waiting. "You were so wrapped up in –A and Red Coat back then. We all were. None of us took the time to really consider Toby. What he was going through. We both know that guilt ate away at him for his involvement with the A Team. And he had a hard time before –A was even on the radar, dealing with his mom's death and then the Jenna thing. I'm not saying what he did, leaving like that, was right. But maybe it makes sense in a twisted sort of way."

Spencer studied Emily for several moments. The proverbial light bulb had suddenly gone off in her head. Emily was absolutely right. She, nor Emily, nor anyone else, had taken the time to ask Toby if _he _was okay after everything that had happened. They'd talked after they'd reunited at the diner, but it had been about his involvement with the –A team, their next move, promising one another no more secrets. From there, it had been a blur of anticipating –A's next move, finding out who Red Coat was, chasing down Ali and in their spare time, learning the truth about Toby's mother.

She knew Toby had struggled with his guilt, both for how he had lied to her for so long and how he'd been placing her between her friends, still succumbing to –A's pull as he'd searched for answers about his mother. She'd been a fool to think Toby had just gotten over what he'd been through with Jenna and the suspicion that he'd killed Ali. He'd been through a lot and while that wasn't an excuse for his actions, she realized for the first time that there may have been more going on with Toby than met the eye.

"You are such a psych major," Spencer grumbled.

"The textbooks helped," Emily admitted. "But I knew Toby really well. Maybe not as well as I thought I did, but there are two things I don't doubt – that he was really good at hiding his feelings and that he really loved you."

Spencer couldn't disagree. She wanted to. She wanted to argue that Toby hadn't loved her. If he had, he'd have stuck around. But he had a history of running when things got hard and his actions on the large left little room for her to debate whether or not he'd loved her once. And she knew better than anyone just how high Toby could construct his walls.

"So what do I do?" Spencer asked. "Put that psych degree to good use and give me advice."

"Follow your gut," Emily advised. "You've always had good instincts. It was you who led us to Ali, figured out how to take down Red Coat and the A Team. When it comes to Toby, follow those same instincts. Just do what feels right." Spencer nodded.

"Thanks, Emily," she said. She leaned forward to give Emily a hug. "I love you."

"I love you too, Spence," she said, giving her one last squeeze.

"Movie time?" Spence asked, pulling away.

"Movie time," Emily agreed, standing. "I'll start the popcorn."

* * *

Spencer loved Hanna. But right then, in that moment, she hated her. She smiled politely and passed out the brochure and chotskies emblazoned with Hanna's boutique name on them to an eager pack of teenage girls, all the while plotting bodily harm when Hanna finally showed her face.

"Hey, Spence," Aria said, popping up out of nowhere, a camera bag slung over her shoulder, a camera swaying from a leopard print strap draped around her neck. She looked around the booth. "Where's Hanna?"

"Sonic," Spencer replied. "She just _had _to have a cherry limeade."

"Sonic?" Aria asked in confusion. "Isn't the closest Sonic all the way in Yardley?"

"Exactly," Spencer told her. "In Yardley. Which is where Hanna is. Which is not in Rosewood. Which means Hanna is not in Rosewood although her booth for the fall festival is."

"Why is she in Yardley in the first place?"

"She was in Philadelphia on a buying trip for her store. Not only did the buying expedition – Hanna code for personal shopping trip – take longer than expected, she and Caleb were just _starving_ and couldn't resist stopping at Sonic. Would you believe she had the nerve to call and ask me if I wanted anything?"

"She didn't call and ask me if I wanted anything!" Aria said with indignation. Spencer scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"All I wanted was to go home. Have a quiet Friday night in, just me and my dog, after a long week at work. Instead I somehow agree not only to watch Hanna's booth for her until she got back from Philly, but to haul everything over from the store and set it all up."

"I can take a turn if you want," Aria offered. Spencer shook her head.

"You're supposed to be taking photographs for the paper. You do your job, I'll suffer for Hanna."

"Or I'll suffer for Hanna," came Emily's voice.

"Em! Hi!" Aria exclaimed. She bounced over and hugged Emily quickly, not having had a chance to see her since she'd arrived in town the day before. "Hi, Krista," she added, giving Emily's girlfriend a quick hug which Spencer followed.

"Hanna called and said something about you potentially killing her if you didn't get to go home soon. Krista and I were coming to the festival anyway, so I offered to watch her booth until she got here."

"She's bringing us Sonic in exchange for our services," Krista added. She liked Emily's friends and wanted them to like her as well.

"Seriously, did no one think that Aria might like a chili dog and some tater tots?" Aria asked.

"I'll buy you a funnel cake," Spencer retorted. Aria shrugged, not minding the deal.

"I really should go take pictures," she said. "See you all tomorrow for girls' night out?"

"Of course," Emily replied.

"Spence, rain check on my funnel cake? Maybe a slice of turtle cheesecake at The Grille instead?"

"Deal," Spencer responded. Aria left her friends, camera already in hand as she started snapping away at booths and festival attendees.

"Seriously, Spence, we've got this," Emily said. "Go – do whatever it was you were going to do before Hanna played her 'but you're my best friend and I really need to stay at this show a little longer for the good of the boutique' card."

"Yeah, Spencer, it's just handing out brochures and coupons and these little magnet things, right?" Krista added. "We can handle this."

"Okay," Spencer agreed, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She lived just a few blocks away and would be home in under ten minutes. "There are boxes of extras of everything if you start running low. If you get really low, Hanna's got plenty at the boutique." She took a key out of her purse. "Here's her spare key. Make sure she gets that back."

"Got it," Emily said, taking the key. She turned to go back behind the booth's table when someone in the distance caught her eye. She grinned broadly. "Toby!" she called. Toby looked her way at the sound of her voice and smiled when he saw her waving at him. He started towards them and Spencer found herself wanting to hang around rather than make an exit before he got too close.

"Emily!" he said as Emily pulled him into a hug. "It's good to see you." He looked over at Spencer and gave her a smile. "Hey, Spencer." Spence smiled in return.

"It's great to see you too," Emily replied. "Spencer told me you were back, but I didn't believe it until I saw you."

"It's true," Toby confirmed. "I'm back. How long are you in town?"

"Just until Sunday," Emily said, reaching for Krista's hand. "We got here really late Wednesday night, making a long weekend of it. Toby, this is my girlfriend, Krista. Krista, this is Toby, an old friend of mine. He just moved back to Rosewood."

"It's nice to meet you," Toby said politely, shaking Krista's offered hand as they exchanged pleasantries. Spencer stood nearby, watching the interaction, Emily's words about Toby from the previous night rolling around in her head.

"We're relieving Spencer of Hanna duty, but why don't we have breakfast in the morning, catch up?" Emily proposed. Toby nodded.

"I'd like that," he said, somewhat surprised Emily was so receptive to him. "The Nook around 9:00?"

"Perfect," Emily agreed. "See you there." Toby nodded in agreement. His eyes drifted to Spencer. He was suddenly tongue tied, but she unknowingly came to his rescue.

"You know, I think I'm going to stick around for a little bit, check out the festival," she said. "Toby? Want to join me?" Toby and Emily wore matched looks of surprise while Krista looked on curiously. She knew a little about Toby, that he was a friend of Emily's and had dated Spencer, but she didn't know much more.

"Um, yeah, sure," Toby said, recovering quickly.

"Come on, then," Spencer said, nodding towards the rest of the festival. "I heard the bakery has those pumpkin muffins. Em, Krista, I'll see you both tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night," Emily agreed. "And see you in the morning, Toby."

"You will," he replied. "Nice to meet you, Krista." She gave him a polite smile and then Toby joined Spencer as the two walked along the festival's midway.

"How's your dad?" Spencer asked. Toby, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as they walked, shook his head.

"He had a chemo treatment today," he told Spencer. "He's in the hospital at least overnight. Treatments are pretty hard on him."

"I'm sorry," Spencer said. She caught herself from reaching out to put a comforting hand on Toby's shoulder and folded her arms across her chest as they walked. "Is there anything I can do?" Toby shook his head again.

"Nothing any of us can do, really," he said. Then he took a chance. "Distraction helps, though. That's how I ended up here, by myself, on a Friday night." Spencer smiled.

"Good thing I'm really good at distraction," she said. Her eyes fell on a booth. "Think you can beat me at ring toss?"

"With my eyes closed," Toby responded. That familiar competitive spark lit in her eyes.

"You're on," she informed him. She marched up to the booth and ten minutes later, did a victory dance. "I told you I'd win!"

"Oh come on! You beat me by one ring!" The attendant handed them their prizes, two overstuffed animals.

"Still beat you," Spencer informed him. The pair started walking along again, Spencer notably closer to Toby than she had been before.

"You hungry?" he asked. "Because honestly, I'm starving." Spencer nodded.

"I could go for some food," she told him. Toby turned in the direction of the food vendors, Spencer at his side. She was aware of the eyes on them, had even seen her own parents from a distance, giving her a look somewhere between curiosity and disappointment. She'd long ago broken free of being overly concerned with what her parents thought of her decisions, of trying to make them proud, so she'd given them a small wave that Toby hadn't seen and remained by his side.

"What'll it be?" he asked, looking around at their options. "Fried, fried or fried?"

"Fried," Spencer confirmed, taking in each food vendor that offered up something dipped in batter and dropped into a fryer. The pair split up, heading to the booth of their choice. Spencer rejoined Toby at a picnic table, settling in across from him as he dug into a large plate of barbecue, coleslaw and macaroni and cheese. She herself had opted for a chicken tender basket, her fries drenched in cheese and chili.

"So Emily's girlfriend seems nice," he said, making small talk.

"She's really great," Spencer agreed. "She makes Emily happy and that's all that really matters." Toby nodded in agreement.

"I saw Ali the other day," he continued, aware that he was tiptoeing precariously near topics that would bring up a lot more than he wanted to discuss right then. "She was walking down the other side of the street. It was weird, kind of like seeing a ghost."

"She's been back here for most of the last five years and I still can't quite wrap my head around it all," Spencer admitted. "It's really strange to see her out and about. Aria and I had dinner with her earlier this week and I had breakfast with her last Saturday, but it's still surreal, to see her sitting across the table as an actual breathing person. This is her last year at Hollis so she was talking about all of her classes and student teaching… It's crazy to think of Ali as a teacher."

"She's going to be a teacher?" Toby asked. He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Influencing small children was perhaps the very last thing the Alison DiLaurentis he knew was suitable for.

"I know, it's shocking," Spencer agreed. "But she's changed so much. She looks the same, that's about it."

"Five years is a long time," Toby ventured. "I guess we've all changed." Spencer stopped eating and looked at him. Their eyes met and she felt a familiar pull, a certain warmth in her heart that had been missing for a long time. For the moment, she couldn't quite remember why things had turned out so badly between them.

"Yeah," she breathed. "We have all changed." Toby opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a small child crying out 'Spin!' over and over again. He saw Spencer's eyes light up just before she spun around on the bench in time to catch a little girl with brunette curls held back by a big bow in her arms.

"Abracadabra!" Spencer exclaimed, hugging the girl tightly. "I was hoping I'd run into you!"

"Aunt Spen!" the little girl said happily before hugging Spencer again. The girl was, Toby assumed, Melissa's child. He glanced around and sure enough, Melissa and a man he assumed was her husband were making their way towards their table. He shifted around uncomfortably, not sure how Melissa would react to his presence.

"Are you having fun?" Spencer asked the little girl in her arms.

"Fun!" the child said happily. She pointed to her cheek which had a pumpkin painted on it. "See my punkin? It sparkly!"

"It's so pretty," Spencer said. She suddenly remembered Toby was with her and turned back to face him. "Abby, this is Toby. Toby, this is my niece, Abby." Toby gave the child what he hoped was a friendly smile. He didn't have much experience with children, but he felt a strong desire to make a good impression on the nearly two year old.

"Hi, Abby," Toby said. "It's nice to meet you." Abby gave him a smile.

"Hi," she said shyly, extending her hand. Toby raised an eyebrow, but reached to shake the little girl's hand. It was then that he realized just how much she looked like Spencer. He'd never thought Melissa and Spencer looked much alike, Spencer taking after her father, Melissa after their mother, the only real hint that they were sisters being the ever present sibling rivalry. But Abby was proof that they all shared from the same gene pool. Abby was also very much how he'd once envisioned he and Spencer's daughter looking, right down to the girl's big brown eyes that were almost exact replicas of her aunt's.

"I like your pumpkin too," he told her. She giggled and stuck a finger in her mouth, cuddling up to Spencer.

"Thank you," she replied.

"She's the world's most polite toddler," Toby told Spencer.

"She's half Hastings," Spencer reminded him, just as Melissa and her husband made it to their table.

"Abby, what have I told you about running off like that?" Melissa asked sternly.

"I see Aunt Spen," the little girl told her mother, snuggling even closer to Spencer in an effort to stay out of trouble. Toby watched as Spencer squeezed the girl protectively.

"Yeah," Spencer replied, "she saw Aunt Spen."

"She also took off when she saw Gigi and Pop earlier," Melissa said. "She can't run off like that every time she sees someone she knows."

"I sorry," the little girl said in a singsong voice.

"Just don't do it again," the girl's father spoke up. Toby could tell by the gleam in his eye that the little girl – and her mother – were the only women he seen. He felt a surprising pang of jealousy, followed directly by a sense of loneliness he'd felt all too often over the years. He pushed both feelings down though as both tended to lead him into a dark place.

"Toby, I'd heard you were back in town," Melissa said, addressing him.

"Melissa," Toby said with a polite nod. "Good to see you again."

"This is my husband, Michael," Melissa said. "Michael, this is Toby Cavanaugh, an old friend of Spencer's." Toby cringed internally at the phrase 'old friend' but it was really the best explanation he could've hoped for to describe he connection to Spencer. He stood and politely shook hands with Michael.

"Cavanaugh?" Michael questioned. "Any relation to Richard Cavanaugh?"

"He's my dad," Toby confirmed.

"Really? He designed my parents' lake home." The two men settled into an easy conversation about work, leaving Melissa to turn to Spencer who was chatting happily with Abby about what she'd done at the festival so far.

"Spencer?" Melissa asked in an undertone. "Anything to tell me?" she tilted her head slightly in Toby's direction.

"I'm not sure yet," Spencer admitted. Melissa sighed.

"I really want to lecture you and remind you about how he hurt you. But I tried making your decisions for you and protecting you for far too long. So I won't."

"Thank you," Spencer told her sincerely. After all was said and done, Melissa's involvement with the A Team had been entirely to protect Spencer. It had taken that sort of sacrafice for Spencer to realize Melissa really did love her as fiercely as a sister should and ever since, they'd had a close relationship, especially after Abby was born.

"Michael?" Melissa called to her husband. "We should probably be getting Abby home. It's getting closed to bedtime and I want to find my parents so she can say goodbye before we leave."

"I guess it is about that time," Michael relented. He clapped Toby on the shoulder. "Happen to have a business card on you? We've been talking about building an addition and if I can ever get my wife to make up her mind on what she wants, I'll give you a call." Toby reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He removed a business card and passed it to Michael.

"That's technically for my dad's firm, but my information is on the back," Toby told him. "I haven't been there long enough to have business cards printed up." He left out that he'd been holding off until he'd passed his certification exam and could have his certification put on his card to make him more credible as a professional.

"Thanks," Michael said. "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise," Toby replied, shaking hands. Spencer leaned down and caught Abby up into a big hug.

"I'll see you at church on Sunday, Abracadabra," she said. She kissed the girl's unpainted cheek. "And here, you want to take this?" She passed Abby the stuffed animal she'd won playing ring toss. The little girl's eyes lit up.

"Thank you, Aunt Spen!" she said, hugging the animal.

"You're welcome, kiddo," Spencer said. She gave Melissa and even Michael a quick hug goodbye.

"Nice seeing you again, Toby," Melissa said politely.

"You too," Toby agreed. He smiled and gave Abby a little wave. "And it was very nice to meet you, Abby."

"Bye, Mr. Toby," she said with a sheepish grin. The family walked away, leaving Spencer alone with Toby once more.

"That went better than I was expecting," Toby admitted.

"It turns out that Melissa isn't completely awful," Spencer said. "Especially now that she's married and a mother. Don't worry. It was a surprise to me too." Toby chuckled.

The pair resumed eating in relative silence, trading small talk about festival passerbys and the weather. When their food was gone, they resumed walking around the festival at Spencer's suggestion. She stopped at a number of booths to look around or chat with whoever was stationed there. Toby followed her, content to watch her mingle with her neighbors, greet everyone as though they were an old friend.

He realized as he observed her that Spencer had found the one thing she'd been missing during their time together – self-confidence. She'd always been confident enough. She was downright fearless in everything she did, not afraid to stand out, to be the center of attention. But she had never been comfortable in her own skin, had always fought so hard to be the person she _thought _she was supposed to be instead of the person she _wanted _to be.

She had become the version of herself she wanted to be now. Somewhere along the way, she'd left her parents' plans for her behind and created her own life, a life he could tell she loved, was proud of. Her quiet confidence made her walk a little straighter, smile a little broader. And it made him all the more attracted to her.

He was looking at a display of hand-carved knickknacks spanning every holiday and kitschy phrase the artist could think of when Spencer appeared at his side, holding a carton of muffins she'd purchased from the local bakery's booth.

"Can you do that?" she asked him, nodding at an intricately carved Santa Claus.

"Maybe. If I took the time," he said. "This kind of detail takes hours. It's impressive." He looked around for the booth's owner, but saw that he was in deep conversation with a potential customer who was mulling over whether to purchase a hand-carved cornucopia for her the centerpiece of her Thanksgiving dinner in a few months. He took a business card and then nodded at the muffins in Spencer's hands. "Get your pumpkin muffins?" he asked.

"No," she said. "She was sold out already. I'll just have to stop by one day this week and pick up a few. I settled for apple crumb cake instead." Toby could hear the disappointment in her voice. "It's getting a little late. I know its Friday night, but I've been up since before the sun rose this morning and after doing everything from manual labor to playing spokesperson for Hanna, I'm exhausted. I'm going to head home." Toby nodded.

"I'll walk you," he said.

"You don't have to…," Spencer started, but Toby held up his hand.

"I want to," he said. Even though he knew Rosewood was, theoretically, safe these days, he didn't like the idea of Spencer walking around in the dark by herself, even if her house was just a few blocks away.

"Okay," she relented. They left the festival and started in the direction of her house.

"Can I say something?" Toby asked once they were away from the hustle and bustle of the festival.

"I guess," Spencer said, casting him a weary look.

"Everyone seems so normal after everything that's happened," he said. "You have this amazing career and you just greeted every single person you came across like an old friend, whether you knew them or not. Hanna is opening her own business, Emily seems happy. Melissa is married and has a kid. I saw Aria buzzing around with her camera, taking pictures and laughing. And Ali is going to be a teacher. None of you seem remotely affected by everything that happened. It's amazing." Spencer snorted.

"That's rich of you, assuming that we're all fine," she informed him. For the first time since he'd come back to Rosewood and ran into Spencer at The Grill, he heard bitterness in her voice. It was almost a relief. He didn't understand how she could seem so okay with his presence, so open to things like having lunch with him or walking around a fall festival while all of Rosewood looked on when he knew, just under the surface, were a lot of hurt feelings.

"I'm not assuming," he said. "Just observing, trying to understand what's happened here in the last five years." Spencer stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her porch light visible up ahead. She was annoyed, mad even, that Toby had so boldly stated he was trying to understand the last five years when it was his own fault that he had no idea what had happened – to any of them, but especially to her.

"Emily hasn't been back to Rosewood for more than a week since the day we graduated high school," she told him. "It's too hard for her to be here. It brings back too many memories. Hanna can't sleep without a light on and if she goes more than a few hours without hearing from Caleb, she panics and starts expecting the worst. Aria hasn't been on a date in years because she's terrified to open her heart to anyone. Melissa still has nightmares because of the things she did and witnessed. Ali can't so much as walk to her mailbox after dark without a paralyzing fear.

"And our parents? They constantly call us, check up on us, drop by our places unexpected to make sure we didn't disappear overnight, that we didn't have a nervous breakdown over lunch because of the trauma we had to live through. Looks are deceiving, Toby. We might all look like we're doing just fine but twenty, thirty years from now, Hanna will probably still be sleeping with the light on."

Toby didn't reply right away. Even though Spencer was relatively tall, at least compared to her friends, he towered over her by several inches. But in that moment, he felt small, cowering away metaphorically from Spencer's clear rage. His intentions had been to ask how they'd overcome so much, managed to lead such relatively normal lives when he himself was still struggling to put the pieces back together. His question had been poorly phrased however and now he was face to face with the girl he'd left behind as he'd confronted his own demons, the same girl who he knew had plenty of questions of her own.

"What about you?" he finally he asked. He watched as Spencer's face transformed from one of anger to one of confusion.

"What about me?" she challenged.

"Emily left. Hanna sleeps with a light on. Aria doesn't date. Ali stays inside after dark. Veronica Hastings drops by unannounced. But what about you? What about Spencer Hastings?"

Spencer locked eyes with him. He held her steely gaze with one of his own, willing her to confess her weakness, the way the A-Team and Red Coat and death still affected her even now. It felt like an eternity before she finally gave him his answer.

"I don't trust anyone," she told him in a steady voice. "The exception being my family, Hanna, Emily and Aria. Because they were the only ones who were there for it all."

Toby wished she'd slapped him. It would have hurt a lot less. He knew without a doubt that he was a very big reason she didn't trust anyone outside her tightknit circle of friends. He also knew he had no right to feel any sort of hurt at her answer. He'd broken them, caused Spencer even more pain than she was already dealing with. But it still hurt to hear her confirm his worst suspicions.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, so quietly that Spencer almost didn't hear him. She shook her head.

"I'm not having this conversation," she told him. She glanced over her shoulder. "I can make it from here on my own." She turned and started walking towards her house, leaving Toby standing in the glow of a street light. He knew two things in that instance – that he didn't want to part ways like this and that there was only one thing he could say that would make her stop in her tracks.

"My mother was murdered."

Spencer did stop in her tracks. Toby waited for her to turn back to face him, stood silently as she argued with herself over whether she wanted to turn back or to keep walking. Finally, she turned back to him but remained where she was. He did the same, afraid that if he moved at all, she'd resume her march to her front door. She didn't speak, waiting for Toby to continue.

"I kept looking for answers on my own when I left here. It took some time, but I found them. She was murdered at Radley the night of her session with Dr. Palmer. She was going to be released the next day. She was going to come home to my dad and I. But she was pushed to her death by a doctor who had fallen in love with her. She'd never returned his affections, never shown any attraction to him. But he thought, as long as she was locked up in Radley, that he'd eventually win her over.

"When he heard she was being released, he went to see her, lured her up to the roof, said it was one last evaluation before she could be cleared to go home the next day. He tried to force himself on her. She fought back and things got violent. He shoved her and she went over the side. He covered up her death with the story about the window, made it seem like he was doing one last check of patients before his shift ended and saw the open window, went to investigate and found her. Because he was so well-respected, no one questioned him and the investigation into her death ended at a stolen key."

Silence fell again, Spencer digesting the story Toby had just told her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to say something. He drew in several deep breaths, fought the urge to leave the scene, to pour a glass of whiskey, to load up his truck and get the hell out of Rosewood all over again. He had to face this with Spencer, whatever this was going to be.

"Who was the doctor?" she finally asked.

"Dr. Robert Kingston," Toby answered. "Father of one Dr. Wren Kingston." He watched as Spencer's eyes grew wide.

"Wren's father?" she asked. "He…" She couldn't bring herself to say it but she didn't have to because Toby was nodding in confirmation. Wren was no saint but she couldn't reconcile the thought of him being the son of a murderer.

"That's how Wren ended up in the good 'ol U.S. of A. He had suspicions that his father was having an affair – and he was, just not with my mother and not only with one woman – and in the process of getting to the bottom of it, he learned the truth about what happened with my mom."

"Where is his father now?" Spencer asked.

"Dead," Toby answered. "Had a heart attack about four years ago and dropped dead at a medical conference. Which is just as well. I was looking for him by then, hard to tell what I'd have done if I'd found him." The coldness in Toby's voice chilled her to the very bone. She took a step back, whether or not out of fear she wasn't sure. Toby noticed.

"I was in a bad place," he told her in a softer voice. "I was angry. That man robbed me of my mother, of a life entirely different than the one I ended up with. I wanted him to pay for what he'd done." Spencer nodded. In a twisted way, she could understand that.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "About your mother. I'm glad you found your answers." Another several moments of silence passed between them. "I should go inside," she finally said. Toby nodded. He couldn't settle on a way to say goodbye so he merely turned to walk away and heard her do the same in the opposite direction. He took several steps before he stopped and turned back.

"Spencer!" he called. She was hallway down her sidewalk, but stopped to look back at him. Her eyes met his, questioning what he wanted without words. "I haven't slept through the night in five years. The last time was the night after we went to visit Dr. Palmer."

Spencer knew the night well. It was the last night they'd spent together. At the time, it hadn't been especially extraordinary or meaningful. She'd gone to Toby's loft really late that night, knowing he wasn't as okay as he'd insisted he was when they'd arrived back in Rosewood. She'd let herself in and found him seated on the couch, staring at the turned off television, his thoughts eating away at him.

She'd coaxed him into his bedroom and finally got him to talk to her, to reveal his fears that he'd never find out the truth, that everything he'd done had been for nothing, that he was afraid of what the truth actually was. He'd fallen asleep with his head on her chest as she'd ran her hands through his hair over and over in a comforting gesture. She hadn't slept well that night, but he'd slept soundly, comforted by her being there.

"Goodnight, Toby," she said. He nodded once.

"Night, Spencer." He turned again and this time, Spencer watched him disappear around the corner, the stuffed animal he'd won at the carnival still tucked under his arm, before she climbed her porch stairs and let herself inside.

* * *

**Spencer was doing pretty good with acting like things are okay in her life but they so are not. Someone had actually mentioned wanting to see more angst and I had to giggle a bit because I knew what was coming. I _love _writing angst... This is just the tip of the ice berg. **

**Let me know what you think! **


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm always so blown away when I read your reviews - you all are amazing! To the 'Guest' that left such a long, well thought-out response, I'd love to respond to you directly, but can't so thank you for that! You picked up on a lot of the themes and nuances of this story, including the slow unveiling of 'the truth' and how I so casually dropped Alison in. More to come on all of that! **

**Two facts about me/this story: 1) Max is based on my own teacup Yorkie. 2) I'm a literature buff as you might guess as you read this chapter and think the use of _Catcher In The Rye _with Toby's storyline was a very clear parallel to his personal back story. **

**Hope you enjoy this update!**

* * *

Toby was two swigs of his second cup of coffee away from being sure Emily had stood him up. She was forty minutes late and the waitress who kept checking in to see if he was ready to order had started giving him looks of pity every time he told her 'not yet.' He figured Spencer had told her about their confrontation the night before and Emily had sided with her, not that he would blame her at all. He picked up the menu she'd left with him, figuring he'd at least have breakfast, when Emily burst through the door in a flurry of hair and chilly fall air. She paused in the doorway and looked around, spotting him almost right away. She rushed to his table.

"Toby!" she exclaimed as she dropped into the chair opposite him. "I am so sorry! I overslept! Krista and I ended up helping Hanna break down her booth which led to drinks with her and Caleb and next thing I know, it's one in the morning. I haven't stayed up past ten in over a year."

Toby noticed she wasn't wearing any makeup and was fairly certain she had on the same shirt she'd worn to the festival the night before as she shed her coat. She gave him an apologetic smile and he returned it, deciding her story was legitimate.

"It's okay," he said. "You made it."

"I really am sorry. I figured you would have left by now."

"Nah," Toby said with a shake of his head. "I was about to order though. Figured it was the least I could do for the waitress who has kept me in coffee." Emily grinned and picked up a menu as the waitress came over with a pot of coffee. She refilled Toby's mug and sat a fresh one in front of Emily.

"Are you ready to order or do you need another minute?" she asked sweetly, smiling brightly at Toby. Emily rolled her eyes at the girl's obvious attempt to flirt with an oblivious Toby. It was like old times when the pair would meet up for coffee or lunch and Toby's bright eyes and well-toned physique would attract the attention of their waitress or the girls at the next table over, Toby never paying them any attention as he'd only ever had eyes for Spencer.

"Um…," Toby looked at Emily to make the decision.

"Go ahead," she told him. "I'll decide what I want really fast." A couple minutes later, the waitress walked away with their orders and a look over her shoulder at Toby.

"I think our waitress has developed a little crush on you," Emily told Toby, tilting her head towards the kitchen door and grinning mischievously.

"What? No," Toby said. "She's just being nice, wants to make sure she gets a good tip." Emily shook her head in amusement but decided to let it go. Toby had no idea how attractive he was. "Where's Krista?" he asked.

"Still asleep," Emily replied. "She woke up long enough to tell me she'd see me when I got back. Although my mom has probably gotten her out of bed and is stuffing her full of breakfast casserole while sharing stories about my childhood since I'm not there to defend myself."

"So Mrs. Fields likes her then?" Toby asked.

"She does," Emily said with a smile. "I like her too." Toby chuckled.

"How'd you meet?"

As he'd hoped, Emily was off, first telling him about how she'd met Krista and then catching him up on everything she'd been up to over the last five years. She told him all about her college years while they waited, including how she and Paige had tried and failed to make long distance work, while they waited for their food. By the time the waitress returned with hot breakfast plates, she was telling him how she and Krista had ended up in Syracuse and was filling him in on their life there. He thought he had a chance to get out of the restaurant without them digging into his life over recent years when she turned the tables.

"I've talked about me through this entire meal," she said. "Your turn. What have you been up to since you left Rosewood?" Toby took another swig of the orange juice he'd switched to after his third cup of coffee to buy him some time before answering.

"School," he said. "That pretty much sums up the last five years. Now I'm working for my dad's firm, filling my experience requirement before I take my licensure exam."

"That's it?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow. Toby knew it would be a hard sell to get her to leave it at that but he was certainly going to try.

"I wouldn't say that's 'it,'" he said a bit defensively. "I did five years worth of school in three and a half at the University of Virginia. That's no small feat."

"You went to UVA?" Emily asked, taking in that bit of information and momentarily forgetting that she was pushing for more information about what he'd been up to over the last five years, specifically the time frame immediately after he left Rosewood. "That's impressive." Toby shrugged.

"They have a great program," he said by way of explanation.

"It's also one of the hardest public schools in the country to get into," she countered. "Seriously, Toby, that's really impressive, that you not only got in, but powered through their program." Toby shook his head.

"I did well on my SATs when I finally took them," he said. "They gave me a chance and I took it." Emily just shook her head, partly in disbelief at how nonchalant he was about his achievement and partly from defeat. She'd always known Toby was intelligent. He was one of the only people she knew that could rival Spencer's intellect. While Spencer was bold about hers, always quoting literature or using big words no one else knew the meaning of, Toby was more reserved, merely reading books and pulling from his vast knowledge base when necessary. It had been one of the things that had made him and Spencer so compatible.

"Besides school, what else did you get into?" Emily pressed, not quite ready to give up on learning more about his absence. "Five years is a long time. Surely you did more than go to school." She'd done the math and a little bit of online snooping. There was a year and a half that wasn't accounted for. He'd graduated from college in the spring, leaving a gap between when he'd left Rosewood and when he'd started school.

"That's really it," he insisted. Emily sighed.

"Fine," she said. "I'll just ask you point blank if I can't trick you into telling me on your own. Why did you leave Rosewood?"

It was the question Toby knew was coming. He reached for his orange juice again, stalling once more. He had no intentions of answering her with the whole truth. He knew she'd report back to Spencer and he didn't want anyone but himself to share that with her. But he had to give Emily something. She was his best friend once and he owed her that. She raised an eyebrow, letting him know she was waiting.

"I was in a bad place," he said. "I had to get away, deal with some things." He stopped there, picked up his fork and pushed around the bit of leftover omelet on his plate. Emily sighed.

"That's all I'm getting, isn't it?" she asked, finally accepting defeat.

"You're Spencer's best friend," he reminded her. "Anything I say to you will go right back to her. She needs to hear this from me."

"So you've suddenly developed a conscience where Spencer is concerned," Emily stated. "That's big of you, wanting to tell her why you left when you didn't have the balls to tell her you were leaving in the first place." Toby let out a long breath, put his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples.

"It's complicated, Emily."

"Everything from back then is complicated," she reminded him. "You don't get to use that as an excuse. Spencer wasn't the only one you left, Toby." Toby looked up at Emily then and saw the hurt in her eyes that she'd done such a good job of disguising until now. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Em, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I was dealing with a lot. All of us were. I just…," he took a deep breath. "I just wasn't strong enough to stay." Emily had a degree in psychology, but she also had known Toby really well once upon a time and both of those things told her he was still hurting from whatever had sent him running. She knew too that it wasn't the time or place to push him further on the topic. She also knew she wasn't the one that needed to do the pushing. Only Spencer would be able to draw the full story out of him.

"We all wanted to run away at some point or other," she told him. "I just don't understand how you could leave Spencer again. You knew what happened the last time you took off. How could you put her through that again?"

"I knew it was a mistake from the moment I made the decision to leave," he admitted. "But I couldn't stop myself. I knew she'd be okay. She had you. And Hanna and Aria. She didn't need me." Emily only shook her head in disagreement. She, Hanna and Aria had been there for Spencer but they weren't Toby. They couldn't calm her down by wrapping her in their arms or whispering hushed sweet nothings for her ears only. She decided to ask the one question she was going to need him to answer before she left their breakfast table.

"What are you going to do about Spencer?" Toby looked at her, confused.

"Spencer?" he asked.

"Come on, Toby. Helping her with her tire, having lunch with her, walking around the festival last night. What's that about? What are your intentions? Because Toby, you an old friend. But Spencer is my sister and she's been through enough to last a lifetime. You don't get to swoop in, lead her on for a while, and leave again."

"I wasn't going to leave her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere," Toby told her. "And I was working when she sat down at my table with lunch. The festival was her idea. You were there for that."

"Answer the question," Emily said sternly. Toby sighed and ran a hand over his face, partly in frustration, partly because he didn't know how to answer. He locked eyes with Emily and saw the familiar look of both support and a challenge for the truth. There was only one true answer.

"She's Spencer," he told her quietly. "She's the love of my life." Emily drew in a breath, unable to hide the surprise she felt at Toby's answer. She didn't doubt that there were still feelings between the two but she had been sure Toby would deny them.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked again. Toby shook his head.

"I have no idea."

* * *

Toby had done a lot of stupid things over the course of his life. He'd hurt a lot of people and left a lot of important things unsaid. He'd also done a number of brave things. He'd put his own life on the line a number of times, almost exclusively to keep Spencer safe, and went in search of the truth about his mother, no matter how much it would hurt to find out what actually happened. Now, standing outside The Brew and looking at the stairs that led to Spencer's office, he was trying to decide if what he was about to do qualified as stupid or brave or perhaps both.

It certainly wasn't the stupidest thing he'd ever done. The times he'd left Spencer, his involvement with the A Team and trusting –A far surpassed the next move he was about to make when it came to stupidity. Facing Spencer with such a bold gesture after how they'd left things the night of the festival was taking all the courage he could muster. He took a deep breath as he started towards the stairs leading up to his former loft, deciding to let Spencer's reaction determine if this was a stupid or brave idea. As he climbed the stairs, he thought about the irony behind the fact that he was now the visitor instead of the resident.

He raised his hand to knock, not sure if Spencer's clients just walked in or not, but even if she had a full reception area on the other side of the door, he wanted to give her the chance to turn him away. He was contemplating knocking again when he heard her footsteps approaching. Before he was ready, the door opened, revealing Spencer in a very Spencer-like dress, tights and riding boots.

"Toby!" she said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" Toby held out the box in his hand.

"Peace offering," he said. Spencer's eyes trailed from Toby's crystal blue ones to his outstretched hand. The box had the bakery's logo on it.

"Baked goods?" she asked, taking the box from him.

"Pumpkin muffins," he clarified. "I know you were disappointed that they were sold out at the festival Friday night. I picked up a couple for you when I stopped in for a cinnamon roll for breakfast this morning." He left out that he'd called the day before and placed an order specifically for the muffins. He figured he did pick them up as well as a cinnamon roll to have for breakfast so it wasn't a complete lie.

"Oh," Spencer said, obviously taken back by his gesture. "Um, thank you." He nodded.

"You're welcome," he said. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck out of nerves. "Can we talk?" he asked. "Just for a minute?" Spencer studied him as though trying to figure out his motives. It took her several moments to nod in agreement, pull the door open wide and step aside to let Toby in. "Thanks," he said as he passed her.

He took a moment to look around, surprised by just how different the place looked. A wall had been knocked out to expand the space. Where his living room used to be, Spencer had created a small, cozy seating area where he assumed she met with clients. A corner had been dedicated to a desk and neat, tidy shelving units with boxes in pastel shades of purples and blues that served as a filing system. A drafting desk had been erected at the window where his own desk once stood, the view of the town square picturesque. Photographs of Spencer's work decorated the walls. From where he stood, it looked like his former bedroom had been turned into a storage area.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," Spencer offered. She sat down on one of the love seats in her seating area and resumed working on the inspiration board she had spread across the large coffee table in front of her.

"No, thanks," Toby said. He cautiously perched on an armchair, his elbows resting casually on his knees. He jiggled his knee out of nerves for a few moments but quickly caught himself and stopped. He saw Spencer suspiciously cast her eyes in his direction before picking up a blue paisley fabric and pinning it in place.

"You had something you wanted to talk about?" she asked, keeping her eyes on her work. She wasn't sure how she felt about Toby being there, hadn't quite figured out how to digest everything she'd learned about Toby a few nights earlier. Toby blew out a deep breath.

"Yeah," he said. "I did."

"Well I've got a client due in fifteen minutes so get to it." Toby nodded once to show he understood. He chose his words carefully, aware that Spencer was being abrupt with him.

"I wanted to apologize for what happened after the festival Friday night," he said. "I didn't mean to downplay what you've been through – what any of you have been though. It's just… Well, like I told you. I haven't slept in five years. I come back and I see all of you moving on, building these seemingly great lives. I just wanted to know how you moved on, found some sense of normalcy. Because then, maybe, I could find a way to do it too."

Part of Spencer wanted to lash out at Toby, wanted to yell at him for everything he'd put her through until her voice was gone. She wanted to say the mean and spiteful things she'd thought of when she'd realized he'd left again, wanted him to feel half the hurt and anguish she'd felt. But instead, she heard Emily's voice, pointing out that Toby had been struggling long before their paths had crossed and decided to refrain, at least for now. So she sighed and turned to him.

"And now you know we aren't as okay as we seem," she said. "So if you figure it out, let the rest of us know."

"We'll never be 'normal,' will we?" Toby asked.

"No," Spencer agreed. "We won't be. We'll always be 'those girls' and you, Caleb, Paige, Jason, Jenna, our families, they'll always be relatives or acquaintances of 'those girls.' Whether we live in Rosewood or thousands of miles away, whether we ever speak to those people again or like Hanna, end up married to them, those few years are always going to haunt us."

"'_The past is never dead. It's not even past_,'" Toby quoted so softly that Spencer almost didn't hear him.

"Faulkner," she supplied, identifying the quote. "_Requiem for a Nun_."

"I read a lot of his stuff in college," Toby told her. "_The Sound and The Fury _is the first book that's ever threatened to take _Catcher In The Rye's _place as my favorite."

"Did it?" Spencer asked curiously. Toby shook his head.

"I see too much of myself in Holden Caulfield to let the Compson family drama take his place."

Spencer put the final swatch in place on her inspiration board. She looked at it with satisfaction and then checked the time. She had ten minutes before her client was due to arrive. She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, and turned to Toby once more.

"Why did you leave?" she asked point blank. "Where did you go? Why didn't you bother to even leave a note?"

A heavy silence fell between them. Spencer needed the answers and Toby needed to give them to her. He'd already orchestrated a plan, but he had to dip into his reserves to find the courage to put it into motion and those reserves were dangerously low these days. He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to Spencer's which burned with desperation to know the answer. He swallowed back his nerves.

"Have dinner with me," he said, stumbling over his words as they left his mouth quickly, before he could change his mind. Spencer raised her eyebrow in surprise, not sure she heard him right.

"Excuse me?"

"Have dinner with me," he said again. "I want to tell you everything. I _need _to tell you everything. And God knows you deserve the truth. But right here, right now, isn't the place. You said you have a client coming soon and I need to check up on my dad and get back to work myself. Just have dinner with me. One meal. You can ask me anything. I'll tell you everything."

Spencer considered his offer. He was right in the fact that now wasn't the best time. Her client would be there any minute and they needed a whole lot more than a few minutes to talk about the last five years. But dinner was so intimate, so personal. She heard Emily's voice again and decided to give in to his request – with conditions.

"Fine," she agreed.

"Really?" he asked with disbelief. He'd expected her to turn him down and had been ready to counter her refusal with another offer.

"On one condition," Spencer said, holding up one finger.

"Of course," Toby said. He should've known there would be conditions. This was Spencer Hastings he was dealing with.

"Dinner is at my place. I'll cook. You just show up ready to tell me the truth."

"Your place?" Toby repeated. "Are you sure?" He wanted her to be comfortable with him, wanted her to set the rules. Her home was hers, a place where she could retreat and be herself. But bringing him into it to relive something that had hurt them both, damaged them both so much, could change that for her and that was the last thing he wanted.

"My place," Spencer confirmed. "This isn't a conversation I want to have in public. All I need to know now is when to expect you."

"Well, I have to be in Philadelphia for the rest of the week to meet with a client we're pitching our design to. I'll be back Friday afternoon."

"I'm going to the lake house with the Hanna and Aria on Friday for one last long weekend before it gets too cold. We're not coming back until Monday. What about tonight? Or a week from today?"

"I'm supposed to sit with my dad tonight," Toby said. "He's home from the hospital, but he's still pretty weak from his last chemo treatment. But maybe I can work something out with Judith…"

"No," Spencer said, shaking her head. "You need to be with your dad. It'll have to be next Tuesday."

"A week from today," Toby said with a nod. "Around 6?"

"Make it 7," Spencer countered.

"7," Toby confirmed. He decided to leave before Spencer changed her mind – and before her client got there. She looked flustered and he wanted to give her a chance to pull herself together. "I should get going before your client gets here."

"Okay," Spencer agreed. They both stood and started to walk towards the door. A sketch on Spencer's drafting board caught his eye though.

"Is this the Stanford house?" he asked, walking over to it.

"It is," Spencer confirmed. "I was working on the morning room earlier."

"The color scheme is perfect," he said. "It pulls from the natural surroundings."

"The view from her front porch inspired me," Spencer told. "I'm still working out the window treatments though."

"You'll figure it out," Toby said with confidence. He glanced around the room at all the photos on the wall. "You're really talented, Spencer."

"Judging by the blueprints Mrs. Sanford showed me, you are too," she told him.

"I guess we all need to be good at something," he said. "I'll see you Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Spencer agreed.

Toby let himself out, leaving Spencer standing at her drafting board. She let her fingers drift over the paper positioned there, listening to toby's feet descending the metal stairs outside of her office. One week. If Toby held up his end of the deal, the last piece of the puzzle that made up the picture of what happened so many years ago would finally fall into place. She'd thought she was ready to hear the whole truth. Now, as she watched Toby climb into a very familiar Chevy pickup parked across the street from The Brew, she wasn't so sure.

* * *

**We have a dinner coming up - with a pretty big conversation. Stay tuned! **

**Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**There was one scene that I've been looking forward to writing since I began this story and I finally got to include it in this chapter. Hint: It's _not _the big talk between Toby and Spencer _or _the video conference chat between friends.  
**

**I hope you like long updates because this one is _long._ Toby had an awful lot to say. Some of it might not make sense right now but rest assured that it will all make sense as the story continues.  
**

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing - I adore each of you!**

* * *

If there was one thing Spencer was certain of, it was that she was over work and in dire need of a weekend getaway to the Hastings family lake house.

Toby's visit and subsequent dinner proposal a few days earlier had thrown her mind into overdrive, trying to recall every detail she could about the days leading up to the Hoedown dance. She was preparing for the conversation they were planning much in the way her mother prepared for trial, attempting to prevent being blindsided by anything Toby might bring up although she knew the effort was likely futile. The more she could remember, the more details she could hold on to, the surer of herself she would feel when he was sitting at her dining room table four days from now.

The real problem was that she was revisiting memories she tried desperately to keep tucked away. She had been through hours of therapy to work through everything she and her friends had been through, her relationship with Toby and her family's issues. What she hadn't dealt with in therapy, she'd been able to push aside and move on. A lot of that pushed aside baggage was Toby-related and with his return, it had been nudging ever closer to the surface and now, was banging at the door to get out.

Besides dealing with Toby, she'd found her clients particularly difficult for the remainder of the week, changing their minds, questioning invoices, not responding to her emails and phone calls in a timely fashion. She'd gone as far as reschedule a consult for next week so she wouldn't have to deal with one more client asking if she was _sure _custom, hand-painted wallpaper came with such a hefty price tag. She loved her job, but sometimes, enough was enough.

She, Hanna and Aria had planned to meet at The Brew to head to the lake house and so, after dropping her dog off with Mrs. Fields, who was feeling lonelier than ever with Emily away and Mr. Fields deployed once more, she had arrived at The Brew nearly an hour ahead of their scheduled time. She didn't bother to go upstairs to her office, choosing instead to get a coffee and breakfast and sit at a table with her book to wait. She was just starting the second to last chapter when a shadow fell over her table.

"Spencer?"

Spencer looked up to see Richard Cavanaugh standing in front of her. He looked pale, weak, perhaps, but still seemed strong overall. His hair had thinned, though Spencer wasn't sure if it was from chemo or aging. His eyes still had a spark in them and although they were darker in shade, she could see Toby in them. He was smiling, but Spencer could sense he was nervous.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," she greeted, turning her book over and placing it on the table to hold her place. "How are you?"

"Now there's a question I don't get often," he said with a grin. "It's usually 'how are you feeling?' Which, I'd be willing to guess, is what you'd really like to know?"

Spencer grinned guiltily. She'd never had much interaction with Toby's family, had a predisposed judgment of Mr. Cavanaugh as being an absent father who cared little for his only child. But over the last few years, when she'd see him on the street or heard his name brought up at the club, she'd come to think she may have been wrong about him and that he was actually a heartbroken man who missed his wife. After all, she'd been entirely wrong about his son.

"I'm feeling better," Richard told Spencer. "Chemo was a bit rougher this time, but I'm on the upside. At least until the next round. My wife even let me out of the house to get some coffee and a muffin. Although that might really be because she and my son are both at work and not around to stop me from overexerting myself." Spencer chuckled, his obvious good mood rubbing off on her.

"What they don't know won't hurt them," she said. Richard nodded in agreement.

"Absolutely," he agreed. He looked at the counter and then back at Spencer. "Spencer, would you mind if I joined you for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you about something." Spencer felt her stomach plummet.

"Sure," she said. "I'm waiting for my friends but they won't be here for another twenty minutes or so." Richard nodded and after confirming that Spencer didn't want anything, he headed to the counter to place an order.

Spencer nervously played with her napkin, sure that Richard was going to ask her about Marion Cavanaugh's tombstone. She had never told a soul, not her friends or family, not even her therapist, about carving Toby's name into it. She had replaced it with an exact replica as soon as she'd had an opportunity and to her knowledge, no one ever knew she'd defaced it. Somehow, it had been one of the few things –A had left under wraps. She was sure now that Richard was planning for his own funeral, at least according to Toby, that he had somehow discovered what she'd done.

"Sneaking out of the house, ordering caffeinated coffee, it's like I'm a teenager again," Richard said, returning to Spencer's table. "Except back then, I was sneaking out to do a lot more risqué things than order a particularly strong brew of coffee."

"I'm guessing you aren't supposed to have caffeine?" Spencer asked.

"I'm supposed to 'watch my intake' according to my doctor," he answered. "But I'm not too worried about what he says." Spencer smiled uncomfortably. She was aware of his grim prognosis but she wasn't sure if Richard knew she was aware of it. Either way, it wasn't something she wanted to discuss. "I hear you're working on the Sanford house. How's that going?"

"Great," Spencer said, glad for the change in topic. "Mrs. Sanford has a hard time making final decisions, but with enough persistence, we get there in the end. I can't wait to see the final product."

"It's going to be a masterpiece," Richard agreed. "I was thrilled when she signed with our firm, even more so when she agreed to let Toby do the design work. He's a talented kid but just out of school and taking on a project like that is a big task. Luckily, she gave him a chance and from what she's told both me and my partner, she thinks he hung the moon."

"I've seen his blueprints for the place," Spencer confirmed. "They're beautiful. Future visitors will have no idea that the addition wasn't a part of the original home. He managed to make the past blend seamlessly with the new."

"Toby spends a lot of time in the past," Mr. Cavanaugh said, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation where he wanted it to go. "More so than usual, now that he's back in Rosewood." Spencer picked up her coffee. She knew she was the 'past' that he was referring to.

"Getting stuck in the past tends not to end well," she told him. "Look what happened when we started trying to unravel it all those years ago." She took a long drag from her mug. It seemed Richard wanted to talk about Toby, not his late wife's grave. Spencer thought she might have preferred discussing Marion's tombstone after all. Richard took several long moments before he answered, choosing his words carefully.

"Spencer, you have you friends," he started. "Hanna. Aria. Emily. You have a family who loves you and has risked everything for you. When you need someone to talk to, need someone to give you advice, you have a whole list of contacts that you can call up for coffee or a shoulder to lean on. Toby doesn't have that. He hasn't in a really long time.

"As his father, I've let him down time and time again," he continued. "With him back in Rosewood and the two of us finally having some semblance of a relationship, I owe it to him to be his advocate now. It's entirely too late, but right now is all I have."

"Mr. Cavanaugh, with all due respect, Toby was the one who left Rosewood – and everything he had here," Spencer reminded him. She reached for her napkin again, needing something to keep her hands busy. Richard sighed.

"Spencer, I don't know what happened between you and Toby all those years ago. I've tried to drag it out of him, but all he'll tell me is 'it's complicated' or 'I messed up.' The only thing I know is that one day, the two of you were together and seemingly happy and the next, he'd left Rosewood without so much as a note." Spencer looked at Mr. Cavanaugh.

"He didn't tell you he was leaving either?" she asked. Richard looked surprised at Spencer's question, but shook his head.

"We didn't hear from him for weeks," he told Spencer. "He fell off the grid. He was still using his credit card every once in a while so I knew he was alive and had a vague idea as where he was. It wasn't exactly the first time he took off without a word, after all. He finally called about two months after he left."

"Did he say where he was then?" Spencer asked, a note of urgency in her voice.

"Near Boston, I think," Richard told her. "I don't remember exactly." Spencer got the distinct impression that he wasn't telling her a lie, but he wasn't telling her the truth either. "I take it you didn't know he was leaving either?" Spencer shook her head.

"I haven't heard a word from him since the Hoedown dance five years ago," she told him. Richard sighed again.

"Has he told you anything about the time he was gone?"

"Just that he learned the truth about his mother's death." She watched Richard pale even more at the mention of his late wife. He recovered quickly, however.

"That was quite a shock," he said. "It's still hard to accept that she's gone, let alone that she was murdered."

"I'm sorry," Spencer said automatically. "I know how much Toby loved her so I can only imagine…"

"Marion was one of a kind," Richard said with a sad smile. "I see so much of her in Toby. He looks like me, but he got her heart which is all I could hope for. And that's also why I've been wanting to talk to you." He paused then, seemingly struggling to find the words for what he wanted to say next. Spencer glanced at the clock on the wall behind Richard and saw she still had a few minutes before Hanna and Aria were due to arrive.

"Go on," she encouraged. Richard lifted his eyes to hers.

"Spencer, Toby doesn't have anyone to advocate for him. He doesn't have friends to vouch for him, tell you he's changed or that you should give him a chance to explain. The only person he's got to speak up for him is me. He's not going to come to me for advice or to unload all of his baggage after he's had a rough day. I've done too much to damage him over the years for him to confide in me. But I can do this for him."

"What is it that you're doing, exactly?" Spencer asked, confused. There was something about the conviction in his voice that led her to lean forward, wait eagerly for what he was about to say.

"Give him a chance to explain," Richard said. "I'm not defending him. I'm not asking for him to be pardoned for his mistakes. But I am asking that you listen to what he has to say. It might take him some time to tell you why he left, what he did while he was gone, but I have faith that he will. And Spencer, when he does, you don't have to forgive him. But I'm asking for you to remember that he's been in some really dark places, not just as a teenager but while he was gone. My son is stronger than I will ever be, but even the strongest people break sometimes. His mother is proof of that."

Spencer sat back in her chair, trying to take in everything she'd just been told. She was missing something. Something had happened to Toby after he'd left Rosewood. She remembered telling Emily the week before that she felt like deep down, she knew something about Toby that she couldn't place, that she didn't know how she knew. She felt like Richard Cavanaugh had just helped her get one step closer, but she wasn't sure to what.

"If and when Toby decides to tell me about the last five years, I'll listen," Spencer told him, choosing not to tell him they had plans to discuss that very topic in just a few days. "That's all I can guarantee." Richard nodded.

"That's all I'm asking," he said. "He's been through so much, Spencer. He'll put up walls and tries to keep people out as long as he can, now more so than ever. But I do know he loved you with everything he had. You saved him once. And maybe it's presumptuous of me to say this now, in fact, it's probably just the part of me that's fully accepted the fact that I'm dying and no longer cares what I say or do so long as it's what I want, but if you saved him once maybe you can save him again."

Spencer didn't say anything. She didn't have the words to say. She didn't think she'd ever saved Toby although once, she would have said he was the one that saved her. And even if she had saved him, she knew she wouldn't be doing it again.

"I should be going," Richard said, collecting his nearly untouched muffin and coffee. "Judith will be bursting through the doors demanding to know why I'm not resting if I try to push the limits any longer. Thank you for letting me say my peace."

"I really am sorry about your wife," Spencer said. He had no idea she was offering more than her condolences.

"Thanks," he said. "You look after yourself."

"You do the same," Spencer replied. Richard gave her a smile and with that, left the coffee shop. As soon as the door shut behind him, Spencer put her head in her hands and sighed heavily. Leave it to Toby Cavanaugh to once again turn her world on its ear.

* * *

"I still think this is an awful idea," Aria said.

"I agreed it was an awful idea a week ago," Spencer reminded her as she busied herself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stir fry. "But if I want answers from him, this is the way it has to be."

"There's still time to cancel," Hanna supplied. "Just lock your doors, turn off all the lights and pretend not to be home. Or better, come over. Caleb is going to be working all night on some big project and he's barred me from his office. You can keep me company. Aria, you come too."

"This is happening, Hanna," Spencer told her.

"Sorry, Han. You're going to have to entertain yourself. I have photos to develop," Aria told her.

"Lame," Hanna muttered. She disappeared from the screen of their three way video conference and returned a moment later with a glass of wine. "I can always come over there, Spencer. I'll hide out upstairs. We can work out a code word. If you need rescuing, just say it and I'll swoop in to save you."

"This isn't an awkward blind date," Spencer told her. She stepped out of their view to add chopped vegetables to the stir fry but continued talking to Aria and Spencer. "This is just Toby, coming over to tell me whatever he feels the need to tell me."

"Sounds like you aren't expecting the truth," Aria observed.

"Seeing as Toby is as truthful as the boy who cried wolf, why should I expect anything less than some tale spun from threads of gold?" she replied.

"Then why even agree to let him come over?" Hanna asked. The whole thing was pointless as far as she was concerned.

"Because there's a chance he might actually be honest with me," she said, unable to disguise the note of hope in her voice. She looked at the clock. "I need to go. I have to change before Toby gets here."

"You're changing for him?" Hanna asked. "Spence, that's worse than cooking dinner. It's like you _care _that he's coming over and want to impress him."

"I'm wearing sweats, Han."

"Maybe Spencer just wants Toby to see what he missed out on," Aria said. "A hot woman who is also a fantastic cook."

"Let's go with that," Spencer said, pointing to Aria's half of the computer screen. "Let's get together tomorrow and call Emily so I only have to tell how this goes once." They agreed to meet up at Hanna's boutique the next evening for a recap before Spencer ended the call and set her laptop aside. Checking her stir fry one more time, she went upstairs to change, debating on if her need to present herself well was because she wanted to look nice for Toby, wanted him to see what she missed or was just because she was a Hastings and if there was nothing else they could do, they at least looked the part.

* * *

She heard the knock on her door at 7:00 on the dot. She had expected nothing less. Toby had always been punctual, if not early. Max fled to the door, barking hysterically. Spencer followed at a slower pace, pulling in air through her nose and blowing it out through her mouth as she approached, using her favorite relaxation technique supplied by her therapist. She took one last deep breath before she scooped up Max and opened the door.

"Hey," Toby greeted breathlessly. He was nervous, jittery in the same way she was when she'd had too much caffeine and not enough to eat.

"Hey," Spencer replied. Max squirmed in her arms, eager to greet their visitor. "Come in." She waited until she'd shut the door beside him to put Max down. He immediately ran for a ball to bring to Toby, recognizing him as a friend.

"These are for you," Toby said, holding out a bouquet of flowers Spencer hadn't noticed he'd been holding. She smiled politely and took them from him.

"Thank you," she said. The air was tense between them already and he'd barely crossed the threshold. "I'll just put these in water." Toby tossed the ball for Max and followed Spencer into the kitchen.

"Anything I can do to help with dinner?" he asked, noting that it was still on the stove.

"No, the stir fry is almost done and I set the table earlier. We can eat in a few minutes." Toby nodded and bent down to greet Max as he returned with his ball. Toby tossed it again and again, Max took off after it. "He'll do that as long as you throw the ball," Spencer warned him.

"He's little. Persistency is all he's got," Toby said, earning a half of a smile from Spencer as she placed the flowers in a vase and set them in the center of her kitchen island. She went back to the stir fry and checked the rice in its cooker.

"How was Philadelphia?" she asked, keeping with the idle small talk theme.

"Good. We won the contract," he said. "I'll be designing the new 5th & Main Bank Headquarters."

"Wow," Spencer said, genuinely impressed. "Congratulations."

"Don't congratulate me yet," he warned. "It's a modern building. I'm much better at older, more classic designs." Spencer was reminded of what his father had said, about Toby living in the past. She decided to steer the conversation in another direction for the time being. She had already taken out two wine glasses and went to them now.

"Red or white?" she asked.

"What?" Toby countered.

"Red or white?" she asked again. "I'd recommend the white if you're on the fence – Riesling pairs better with stir fry than the cabernet."

"Could I just have water?" Toby replied almost nervously.

"Water?" Spencer repeated. "Um, yeah, sure. If that's what you want. I have diet soda and orange juice if you'd prefer one of those."

"Water is fine," Toby said. Spencer returned one of the wine glasses to its spot in her cabinet and took out a water tumbler. Toby continued to play with Max while Spencer fixed his water and poured herself a glass of wine. She brought Toby his glass. "Thanks," he muttered quietly.

Silence fell between them. Spencer busied herself at the stove while Toby continued playing with Max. She snuck glances at him, trying to gauge his mood, anything that would help her prepare for their inevitable heart to heart. He was guarded, that much was clear. She could practically see the walls built up around him. Otherwise, she could only take in his appearance. He wore dark washed jeans and a long sleeve white henley shirt that fit him just right. His hair was in that in between stage she used to love, grown out from his last hair cut yet still not long enough to warrant a visit to the barber. She couldn't deny that she was still attracted to him, at least physically.

"Spencer…" he started.

"No," she cut him off. "Let's eat first. We can talk afterwards."

Toby seemed ready to push the point, but instead, nodded in agreement. He asked where the bathroom was, needing a minute to himself, a minute to catch his breath and form a plan of what to say, how to say it. When he returned, no more sure of himself than he was when he left, Spencer had plated their food and was seated at the dining room table, waiting. He joined her and they ate in relative silence, interrupting the quiet occasionally to comment on the food or the weather or Max who was begging for scraps at their feet. Finally, their plates empty, Spencer asked if he wanted dessert.

"No," Toby said with a shake of his head. "Dinner was great. I'm stuffed." Spencer nodded and stood to clear the table. "Let me," Toby said, jumping to his feet. They both knew they were putting off the real point of their dinner for as long as possible. It wasn't until the dishes were cleared, the kitchen cleaned and the dishwasher running, that they sat down on either side of Spencer's kitchen island with mugs of freshly brewed coffee, an untouched plate of cookies between them.

"Do you remember what I told you about Dr. Palmer the first time I talked to him? How he kept talking about the air?" Toby asked, his eyes trained on the coffee mug he held between both of his hands.

"He said the air was heavier for some people," Spencer recalled. "For your mom and 'that blonde girl.'" They had later learned that the blonde girl was Cece Drake who had also been in Radley at the time for an eating disorder and an as of then undiagnosed bipolar diagnosis.

"I didn't really understand what he met back then," Toby said. "I knew he meant some people had a harder time than others, but I didn't understand what he meant about the air being heavy until I experienced it for myself." Spencer remained quiet even though she got the impression that Toby had paused to give her a chance to speak. When he realized she wasn't going to, he continued.

"I have the best memories of being a kid. I played Little League Baseball and went trick-or-treating. My mom made all of my costumes. Every Christmas Eve, I unwrapped a new pair of pajamas and a book. Me, her and my dad would sit by the fire in our living room, all of us in new Christmas pajamas, and read my new book before bed. It was a straight out of a Normal Rockwell painting.

"I was 10 the first time I came home and found her in her pajamas. I didn't think much of it. She said she felt bad and by the next day, she was back to her old self again. But it happened again. And then again. And then it didn't happen for a while, a year or more. I'd almost forgotten about it until I came home from middle school track practice and she was still in bed.

"Aside from her funeral, I can't remember the last time I saw my mother in something besides her robe. Somewhere, I went from being a thirteen year old boy on his middle school's track team to being a pseudo man of the house, trying to help my dad with housework and errands while doing everything I could to lift my mother's spirits.

"I can't explain what it was like, watching her drift away from us. I thought if I could just show her enough love, give her enough of a reason to get better, she would. Except she didn't. My dad took her to doctors, got second, third, fourth opinions. When she was admitted to Radley, I was actually relieved, partly because I thought they would make her better but also because I finally had a chance to be a kid again.

"She was in there for my 14th birthday. My dad and I went to visit and we had cupcakes from Radley's cafeteria. She gave me a card she'd made. That was the last time I celebrated my birthday. She died a few weeks later."

Spencer remained quiet, sipping her coffee and listening. She wasn't sure where Toby was going, telling her about his mother. Regardless, she found herself drawn in by the story. He had never shared much about his childhood and the details he was giving her now painted a photo of the Toby she had only known as a name on her class roaster. She waited for him to continue, not offering up any clues as to what she was thinking. He took several swigs of his coffee he started to talk again.

"Everything changed. I fended for myself while my dad worked long hours. We didn't bother with Thanksgiving or a Christmas tree that year. There wasn't a reason to. And then he started dating Judith and next thing I knew, he was remarried and she was moving in, daughter in tow.

"Jenna could sense weakness. She knew I was struggling with my mom's death, my dad's remarriage. I guess she had her own issues too, I don't know. She used my low self-esteem to her advantage, blackmailed me into a relationship with her. She ruined a lot of things that should have been different, should have meant something."

It was with these words that Toby finally glanced at her. Her silence was causing him to unravel, his courage to share his past quickly leaving him. He needed her to hear these things for everything else to make sense, but she had no idea how hard it was for him to tell them. He stopped himself from prompting her to talk and continued his story.

"Jenna took away the last shred of anything I had to hold on to. I was already broken, but she managed to crush me to bits. I wanted to disappear. I was apathetic to everything. I didn't _care _about anything or anyone. Then Ali came along and involved herself, blackmailing me, saying she'd tell everyone I was forcing Jenna to do things with me, peeping through windows, all because I chose my mother over her.

"The night of the fire, I thought, for just a moment, about letting Jenna burn. It was an easy way to rid myself of her. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't let another person, no matter how much I hated her, die. So I pulled her out of that fire. No one ever considered that though. No one considered that I saved her. I ended up doing time in juvie and earned a year away at reform school."

"Why didn't you speak up?" Spencer suddenly said, interrupting him. She had always wondered why he'd remained so silent, not fought for himself. "Why didn't you try to tell someone – anyone – that you were innocent? Surely Ali's blackmail would have been exposed."

"Because, Spencer, I was damned if I did, damned if I didn't. I was going to be sent away regardless. Whether I took the fall for the fire or Ali went around town telling everyone I was a predator, I was still going to lose."

"But Jenna could have told the truth…"

"Spencer, Jenna was badly burned and suddenly blind. Who was going to question some poor girl who just had her life turned upside down's version of the truth? She gave her statement laying in a hospital bed, covered in burns with bandages over her eyes. Even at her weakest, she was still holding all the cards."

"Okay. So you took the fall and suffered the consequences. What happened next?" Spencer asked, growing impatient. She stood and crossed the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. Toby ran his hand through his hair, sensing Spencer's frustration with is longwinded tale. He waited until she'd returned to her seat before he spoke again.

"I know it seems like I'm rambling, but all of this has a point," he told her. "And Spencer, it's really hard for me to talk about this stuff." He needed her to know that. A dull ache had developed in the depths of his chest, brought on from both re-living his past and being in such close proximity to Spencer. Nothing about the evening was easy for him.

"I haven't told you to leave yet, have I?" Spencer countered. Toby bit his lip to keep himself from retorting with something that might make her decide to send him out the door. He'd forgotten how downright stubborn she could be. When he was ready, he continued his story.

"Coming back here after a year at reform school was hard. Everyone, even my own family, treated me like a leper and Jenna was still trying to pull the strings, no matter how far I tried to stay from her. Emily was the first person in a really long time that treated me like a person, not as a pariah or criminal. I messed up at Homecoming. All I wanted was for someone to hear my side of the story, hear the truth for once. But I was desperate and I blew it.

"And then I was accused of killing Ali. Spencer, you know what that's like, being suspected of something you know you didn't do. With the Jenna thing, I didn't care what happened to me. But murder… That was something entirely different. I'd changed in reform school. I spent a lot of time in counseling and group therapy and as much as I didn't want to admit it at the time, it helped. I wanted my life back when I got out of there. But I couldn't even walk down the street.

"I went through a lot. In the span of three years, I lost my mom, dealt with Jenna, took the fall for Jenna's accident, went to juvie and reform school and got accused of killing Ali. But during that entire time, the air around me wasn't heavy." He looked Spencer in the eye. "It didn't get heavy until I fell in love with you."

Spencer's eyes widened. "So you fell in love with me and your life went to hell?" she asked, immediately going on the defensive.

"No," Toby said with some force. "Falling in love with you is still the single greatest thing I have ever done."

Spencer felt the air rush out of her lungs. He had always been good with words, able to knock her off her feet with a few well-placed phrases. She couldn't allow herself to be swayed by his eloquent turn of tongue now.

"You don't get to say stuff like that," she told him, looking him square in the eye. "You don't get to come in here and be suave and charming, bringing flowers and saying things like that. Not after everything you put me through."

"I know," Toby said, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Just – listen, okay?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Spencer relented and sat back on her stool, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm listening," she said. "But no more comments like that." Toby nodded once to show he understood. He had to choose his words carefully now as most of what was left of the story involved their relationship.

"I can't tell you the exact moment that I fell in love with you. All I know is I woke up one morning and you were everything to me. It wasn't easy, admitting to myself that I was head over heels in love with you. You went from a snobbish, aristocratic brat to someone I couldn't live without. Someone I'd do anything for – _anything_, Spencer."

Spencer understood what he meant by 'anything.' He had joined the A Team for her, done everything he could to protect her, to keep her safe. Even with everything that happened between them, she didn't doubt that.

"I joined the A Team to protect you. You can't know how hard it was for me to stand by, knowing that there was something seriously wrong. To know that someone was hurting you or at least threatening to, and not being able to do anything about it. I couldn't play dumb, deaf and mute. It was my job to keep you safe. I nearly lost you the night Ian found you at the church. I wasn't going to give someone the opportunity to try again without going through me first. And so, I did what I told you I would – I found my own answers and then joined the A Team.

"The things I did… The stalking, filming, taking photos. The thing with Hanna and the mannequins, slashing Emily's tires. I even locked you in the sauna when my whole mission was to protect you." He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. "I did my best to counter the bad things with good – sending Aria a text so she'd come save you, calling Emily at Nate's. If Mona or Red Coat had found out, I'd have been dead for sure.

"But I had to watch, Spencer. I had to watch you fall apart. I had to see you in Radley, know that I put you there. So many times, I was close to breaking in, going to you. I stopped myself just shy of the Radley gates more times than I could count. If I went to you, I would have put you in even more danger and I knew you wouldn't want to see me anyway. But it was like watching my mom slowing dying all over again and it hurt. So much.

"We never talked about any of that. We tiptoed around it, promised each other no more secrets. You didn't trust me, no matter how much you insisted that you did. We rebuilt our relationship on sand that was blowing away before the wind even picked up. Even if I hadn't left, even if I would have stayed right here, we would have broken up."

Spencer shook her head. "You don't know that," she said. She thought he was being presumptuous. "Maybe we would have, but maybe we would have worked through any problems that arose and be living happily ever after right now. You can't make that determination."

"Maybe we would be together and happy right now," Toby conceded. "But I doubt it. Spencer, I wasn't okay with everything that happened. I couldn't close my eyes at night without seeing you, curled up and despondent in Radley. I couldn't hold you in my arms without thinking back to our anniversary. All these years later and I can still feel the sting on my cheek from your hand.

"I was struggling, Spencer. The guilt I felt over the fact that I could hurt someone I loved so much was overwhelming. I let you think I was dead, that I didn't love you, that everything we had together was a ruse. Every time you'd look at me, eyes sparkling and full of love, I'd feel this overwhelming sense of self-loathing. I never deserved you and as far as I was concerned, every action I took proved that.

"And then all the stuff with my mom started. A and Red Coat, they wanted revenge for my double agent status. I became consumed with it. I needed answers. And in the process, I put you in the middle of your friends and me and in hindsight, put you in even more danger than you were already in. But knowing that my mom may not have left me because she wanted to put me into a freefall I couldn't reverse – which is exactly what A and Red Coat wanted.

"It all got to be too much, Spencer. All the guilt I felt, the struggle between wanting to know what happened to my mom and knowing I was playing with fire, the tension between you and me… It all came crashing down the night of the hoedown. I was hanging on by a thread and when I found out you'd told your friends I was looking for answers from my mom, I couldn't take anymore. I needed out. I needed out of Rosewood, out of –A, out of everything. The air was too heavy for me to keep going"

"So it was fine to leave me, your friends, everyone, to deal with –A and Red Coat and everything else?" Spencer demanded, anger flooding her at Toby's admission. "It was fine to leave me, the girl you claimed to love, without so much as a goodbye note? I can understand needing to get out, Toby. God knows I can understand that. But whenever I wanted out, I stayed. I stayed because I had people I loved who counted on me. You took the coward's way out."

Toby hung his head. "I know," he admitted softly. "I was weak, Spencer." He raised his eyes to hers. "I knew when I made the decision to leave that it was the wrong one, but it was like I was watching from outside myself. I just went through the motions, packed a bag and hopped in my truck. I kept thinking I'd turn around, come back. But I just kept driving."

Silence fell between the two of them. Toby couldn't move from his stool. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what Spencer was thinking, find a way to escape and think of what to say next all at once. Even though thoughts of climbing in his truck and making the short drive to his parents' were appealing, he forced himself to stay, to wait for Spencer's response. Running from his problems is what landed him in this situation in the first place.

Spencer quickly replayed everything Toby had just told her in her mind, trying to find what she was looking for. To her surprise, she understood, at least to an extent, why he'd left. There had been countless times over the years, even before and after –A, that she had wanted to leave Rosewood, pack a bag and never come back, because it would have been easier. But she'd always stayed, knowing she was needed, that there were people who counted on her. She had counted on Toby, but she was able to admit to herself that he may not have known that, given her reliance on her friends. But even with his explanation, she still didn't have what she'd been missing for the last five years.

"I thought it would help, knowing why you left," she finally said, breaking the silence. Toby looked up, almost eager to hear what she was about to say. "I thought I would finally get the last piece of closure I needed so I could finally move on. Ezra, Cece, Mona, they're all in jail and can't hurt us anymore. We know what happened to Ali, who killed Wilden and Garrett. I know why Melissa was involved, what Jenna and Shanna's connection to everything was.

"I had all the puzzle pieces in place and with the help of a lot of therapy, was able to move on. Except I didn't know why you left, what I'd done wrong. You were the last piece. Now, knowing the truth, it doesn't help. It doesn't bring that part of my life to a close. And I don't know why." Toby sighed.

"Spencer, you didn't do anything wrong," he told her. "You were more than I could have ever hoped for. I just wasn't strong enough to stay here and face my demons, even with you by my side." Spencer shook her head.

"What happened in the time between when you left and now?" she asked him. "Five years is a long time and all of us went through a lot. The last five years couldn't have been just finding out the truth about your mom and getting an architecture degree." It was Toby's turn to shake his head.

"That's a whole other conversation. I've told you enough for one night. There was a finality in his voice that Spencer knew not to push.

"I need to think," she told him. "I need to process all of this." Toby nodded in agreement and took his cue that it was time to leave. He stood and took his coffee mug to the sink.

"I'm going to head out," he said. "Thanks for dinner. And for letting me explain." Spencer nodded and forced herself to move from her stool. Ever the hostess, she felt the need to see her guest out. Wordlessly, they made it to the door and Spencer followed him onto the front porch. His truck was parked across the street and caught her eye.

"You still have that old thing?" she asked, breaking her silence as she tilted her head in the truck's direction. Toby looked over his shoulder then turned back to Spencer with a small, fond smile on his face.

"I couldn't get rid of it," he told her. "I had to rebuild the engine last year, but it runs like a top now. Call it sentimental value, I guess." He gave her another small smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess I'll see you around."

"I guess," Spencer agreed. "Bye, Toby." Before Toby could stop himself, he took a hand from his pocket, reached out and caught Spencer's smaller hand in his. The electricity that shot between both of them was instantaneous but they both covered up their reaction. Toby gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it, watched as it returned limply to Spencer's side. With a final polite nod of his head, he disappeared down her sidewalk.

Inside, Spencer leaned against the door and listened to the familiar rumble of the truck fade into the distance. Instead of closure, she was more confused than ever. She had no idea where to start to unravel the mess of thoughts and emotions running through her mind.

There was one thing she did know, however. Her feelings for Toby hadn't disappeared with his taillights five years ago. They had just been dormant, hidden under the significant number of other issues she'd had to deal with and pushed further down by the time she'd spent at Drexell and launching her career. Now that he was back in Rosewood, she had to figure out a way to keep them from surfacing any further. Toby had hurt her too many times to allow herself to fall again.

No matter how much she wanted to.

* * *

**I think it's a safe assumption that there is still a lot that remains unsaid between the two. And remember, _Spencer _hasn't shared much of what she was up to over those last five years either. ;) **

**As you may have guessed, that scene I was so excited about was the one between Spencer and Toby's father. In my head, he's accepted his fate and is trying to both make amends and protect his son while he still can.**

**And we'll also get around to the full A/Red Coat thing too - can't leave out what happened there. But it's not the focal point of the story either. :) **

**Let me know what you think!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Confession: The story that Spencer tells Toby later in this update is absolutely pulled from my childhood. I'm still waiting for my parents to pay up too... **

**As always, thank you so so so much for all of your kind words! I think you Spoby lovers will enjoy this chapter. :)  
**

* * *

Toby violently struck the punching bag with his right hand as it swung towards him. He sent it back in the direction it had come from, buying him just enough time to swing his left as it returned. He was in a groove, pummeling the heavy bag as it swung from its fixture in the ceiling. He was dripping sweat, his heart racing, but he didn't stop, taking out every ounce of emotion he had on the heaviest sandbag he could get his hands on.

It had been over a week since he'd left Spencer's house, emotionally exhausted and in need of a dreamless sleep. He'd taken a long, hot shower as soon as he'd walked through his front door, successfully managing to avoid his parents and the questions they would likely ask when they took in his disheveled appearance. In a moment of weakness, he'd fished out the prescription sleeping pills buried in the bottom of his sock drawer, took two, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The subsequent week had been filled with one thing after another that threated to push him over the edge. It was like the world had lined up to try his last frayed nerve and he was now teetering on the brink of jumping off the metaphorical cliff.

The morning after his talk with Spencer, he had overslept thanks to the sleeping pills and missed a meeting with a client, earning him a strict reprimand not only from his father's partner John, but his father as well. He'd proceeded to spill coffee all over a set of blueprints he'd been working on for weeks and by the time he'd finally gotten home, he'd been stuck in interstate traffic for nearly three hours courtesy of a major accident and was so hungry he hadn't even bothered with heating the leftover dinner having managed to drop the meatball sub he'd bought for lunch while trying to avoid a bicyclist using the sidewalk as a shortcut.

The rest of the week had proceeded in much the same manner. He'd tripped over a power cord and ruined the model of the bank project he was working on. He'd slept at the office that night, having to reconstruct the model before showing the progress to the bank's CEO the next day. He'd had just enough time to run out to the nearest department store and buy a change of clothes before the client arrived for a meeting.

Fortunately, the client had been happy with his progress on the design, effectively wiping his slate clean with John and his father for the rest of the mishaps the week had held. Not that his week had improved. His father had endured another round of chemotherapy and spent half the week hospitalized. Once home, he'd taken longer to recover, leaving Toby and his stepmother playing nurse which for Toby, had dredged up memories of caring for his mother that were like salt in the wounds that had been open wide since his talk with Spencer.

Monday had lived up to its reputation, trying his patience at every turn. His father had had a doctor's appointment which had only served to affirm that his cancer was aggressive, leading Richard Cavanaugh to hold another round of what Toby had morbidly dubbed 'When I Die.' He'd wanted to discuss things like wills and funeral arrangements over dinner and Toby hadn't been able to take it. He'd left his food on the table and gone for a long run, half hoping he'd run into Spencer. Now, Thursday, more than a week after he'd last talked to Spencer, he had reached his wits end with how life was going.

He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to find a dive bar on the outskirts of Rosewood, open a tab, and stay there, drinking whiskey and wallowing in self-pity. Nothing about that had would end well though and so he'd changed into athletic clothes as soon as he'd walked through the door to find Jenna and Noel present and staying for dinner and had been at the Rosewood Gym ever since, pushing his body to the limit through one physical activity after another. He was so focused on the bag in front of him that he didn't notice the petite figure appear next to him, carefully staying out of range of his flying fists.

"Bad day?"

The voice startled him into ceasing his punching. Once he registered that the voice did, indeed, belong to Aria Montgomery, he grabbed the bag just in time to stop it from swinging into him.

"Bad decade," he replied. He gave the bag another swift punch as if to accentuate his point. It was true, he reasoned. It had been more than a decade since the first notion that his mother wasn't as okay as she seemed and he figured after the last 10 years or so, he deserved to be bitter, at least for a while.

"It hasn't been all sunshine and daisies for me either," Aria reminded him, trying to make conversation. She hadn't interacted one on one with Toby much, even when he and Spencer were together, and without her group of friends or experience to draw from, she wasn't sure how to proceed now. Toby, not in the mood for the confrontation he was sure Aria was preparing for, went on the defense.

"Thanks in large part to me, right?" he asked. "The whole part of the A Team and leaving Spencer thing? Save it, Aria. I've beat myself up enough about that this week alone to last a lifetime." He turned to resume punching the bag but Aria wasn't one to be dismissed.

"I was actually referring to the part where the man I thought was the love of my life turned out to be the very same person who nearly killed me and all of my friends on more than one occasion, but if we're being honest here, you really didn't do much to make those years any easier." Toby grabbed the punching bag to stop it once more and turned to again face Aria who had drawn herself to her full diminutive height and was standing with her hands on her hips. She glared at him and he instantly felt guilty about his behavior.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a sigh. He wiped a forearm across his sweaty brow. "It's been a rough week. More so than usual."

"Apology accepted," Aria said, relaxing her stance only a little. He noticed only then that she was in workout clothes and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, dispelling his earlier fleeting thought that she'd only arrived at the gym to torment him. "You've been beating the hell out of that thing for a while. My guess is it has something to do with Spencer?" Toby looked at her.

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "But the world in general is out to get me. At least it feels that way."

"Been there," Aria said with a nod. Toby played with the wrap on his left hand, waiting to find out what Aria wanted. When she just stood there, looking at him curiously, he pushed down what would have been an irritated sigh and decided to ask her outright why she was there.

"Anything I can help you with?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could. Aria bit her lip for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision.

"You probably think I'm here to lecture you about Spencer," she started.

"That would be my first guess," Toby confirmed.

"Well, your first guess would be wrong," Aria told him. "I'd love nothing more than to rake you over the coals and kick you while you were down over everything you put Spencer through. I wouldn't mind letting you know exactly how I feel about your involvement with the A Team and everything else seeing as I never got the chance to rip into you for that one. And I really, really want to give you a piece of my mind on you being here now, messing with Spencer and making her re-live stuff she thought was behind her.

"But I learned the hard way that interfering in other's affairs doesn't end well and so I'm going to keep my nose out of it and let Spencer come to me if she needs me. So this isn't about Spencer. This isn't even about why you left. This is about something else that you will have the answer to."

Toby couldn't deny he was curious. If Aria wasn't going to rip him a new one over Spencer, he had no idea what she could want. "Go on," he said cautiously. Aria took a deep breath and then looked at him with big eyes that hid a lot of pain.

"Did you know that Ezra was A?"

Of all the things Toby was expecting Aria to ask, that wasn't it. "What?" he asked, needing to hear it again.

"Did you know Ezra was A?" Aria repeated. Her voice was carefully even. Toby could tell she was working to keep her emotions in check.

"No," Toby said with a shake of his head. "No. Aria, I swear to you, I didn't have a clue. If I had, he would have never gotten as far as he did with his plan. I would have never let him hurt Spencer which means I wouldn't have let him hurt you or the others. If anything would have happened to one of you, Spencer would have never recovered. I've lied about a lot of things, Aria. But I'm not lying about this."

Around them, people pushed themselves through the last five minutes on the elliptical, lifted weights too heavy for them and did sit up after sit up in pursuit of the perfect six pack. But the two of them stood oblivious to it all, Toby giving Aria time to process what he said. On her part, Aria stood in front of him, gazing at him but not really seeing him. Finally, she gave a little shake of her head.

"I didn't think you did," she admitted. "But I had to ask."

"Makes sense," Toby said with a shrug. He resumed playing with his wrap, somewhat intimidated by Aria's small presence.

"I haven't talked about it," she admitted. "I mean, I did the whole therapy thing, pretty much because it was the only thing that made sense once it was all over. But I haven't brought it up since. The girls are really good at avoiding the topic of Ezra in front of me and I don't go out of my way to bring him up. But when Spencer said you were back, I knew I had to ask if you knew."

"Honestly, Aria, if I would have had to guess back then who was behind –A, Ezra would have been one of the very last people I would have pointed to. I doubt that makes you feel any better, but that's the truth."

"You're right, it doesn't," Aria said with another shake of her head. "I should go, let you get back to beating up your bag or whatever." Toby nodded and moved to return to his workout as Aria started to cross the gym. He had a lingering question of his own, however, and he knew Aria would have the answer. Before he could change his mind, he called out to her. She stopped and turned back to face him.

"When I left, how did Spencer handle it?" he asked. He could tell Aria was just as surprised by his question as he had been by hers. "I mean, I guess she didn't take it well but she didn't…" he trailed off.

"End up in Radley again?" Aria finished. "No, she didn't. She was pretty upset for a while but there was plenty going on to keep her busy. Honestly, she'd already survived more than she thought she was capable of and I think ultimately, that's what helped her keep pushing through."

Toby knew Aria's answer was nowhere near complete, but he'd spent a lot of time over the years wondering how she was, if he had put her back in Radley. He'd revisited a lot of those thoughts over the last week and he had to know how she had handled his final departure.

"I know it seems like I'm a heartless bastard," he told Aria, "but I did love Spencer." Aria gave him a small, knowing smile.

"You still do," she told him. "You used to be a good liar, Cavanaugh." With that, she turned and walked away. Toby made a few half-hearted swings at his punching bag before finally deciding to call it a night. A few minutes later, as he drove past Spencer's house and saw the lights on, it was all he could do to keep driving.

* * *

Of the many things Spencer had learned over the years, one of the biggest lessons had been learning to face her problems head on. It had taken her a while to figure out that the longer she avoided them, the bigger and more difficult to deal with they got. Which was why she found herself staring down a familiar cardboard box with great trepidation, willing it to disappear while also talking herself into opening it.

It had started with an innocent phone call from her mother. Veronica and Peter Hastings had decided to go through their attic, clean out the space in order to refinish it into something that remained to be determined, an office for Veronica or a man cave for Peter. It was a project Spencer was convinced was born completely from boredom and a need to keep up with their friends from the club who had just renovated their basement. Either way, Spencer had already agreed to do the décor and had nailed them down to a contract, even managing to collect half the payment up front.

When Veronica had called, she had informed Spencer she had several boxes with her name on them and would be dropping them off at her house on her and Peter's way out of town for a wedding in Scranton. As promised, Spencer had walked through her door Thursday evening to find a pile of boxes holding court in her living room. She hadn't bothered with them that night, having arrived home late after dinner with Hanna. Now, she was spending her Friday night sorting through them.

For the most part, they had contained things like school achievements and trinkets from her childhood. She had a big box of things to throw away, another of things to keep. She'd sat aside a few toys she wanted to pass down to her niece and had a small pile of things she had decided to donate. She was down to one box and in a sick sort of humor, it was the very box she had both forgotten she had held on to and never wanted to see the contents of again. But because she was a glutton for punishment, she took a deep breath and unfolded the cardboard flaps.

Her hand landed on something soft as she reached in blindly. She knew what it was before she removed it from the box. Toby's anchor t-shirt. She let the well-worn fabric pile into her lap as she trailed her fingers around the neckline. She vividly remembered the day she'd came into possession of the t-shirt, Toby's cheeky 'top or bottom' comment and her decision the next morning to wear it home.

She blew out a breath and set the t-shirt aside. For the next half hour, she pulled out mementos from her and Toby's relationship – photos, movie tickets, notes left on Post-Its. It was all proof that they had been happy once, that Toby had loved her and she had loved him. She didn't realize she was crying until a tear landed on the wooden 'S' Toby had carved for her one lazy Sunday afternoon and hung from a now faded and frayed pink ribbon.

Setting aside a Valentine's Day card Toby had made for her with an intricate sketch of a heart on the cover, she sat back against her sofa and allowed herself to cry. Max, who had disappeared into a corner with an old stuffed animal Spencer had tossed his way earlier, came to his owner and climbed into her lap, stuffed animal in tow, doing his best to offer her some sort of comfort.

She had never really taken the time to grieve the end of her and Toby's relationship. He had left Rosewood just as the –A saga had started to reach its climax. She'd had a few days to first question his whereabouts and then go through phases ranging from worry to anger before they had gotten confirmation that Ali was alive and relatively well. From there, she and her friends had focused more intensely than ever on uncovering the truth and then dealing with the consequences.

Now, with physical evidence of their relationship surrounding her, she couldn't stop the tears as she thought back to those days after the Hoedown Dance, her unanswered phone calls, unreturned texts. Going to his loft and finding it empty, most of his clothes and the few personal effects belonging to his mother gone. She still hadn't believed he was truly gone until she had checked the cemetery and found hydrangeas at his mother's grave.

She had spent more than a week trying to avoid thinking about everything Toby had told her except it was the only thing she could think of every time her mind quieted down for more than a few moments. It had taken her a couple of days to understand just how hard it must have been for Toby to re-live such painful memories. She had started to understand why he had left, even if she still thought he was a coward for doing so. But with his reappearance and the subsequent walk down memory lane, the hurt of his abandonment was as fresh as ever.

Suddenly, she had to talk to him.

She stood quickly, unseating Max. She glanced at the clock and saw it was after nine, but that didn't stop her. She pulled on a pair of Wellies and rushed out the door, barely stopping to lock it behind her. Even though it had started to rain, she was too amped up to drive the mile or so to the Cavanaugh's. She walked it quickly, making it to her destination in under fifteen minutes. The heavy mist left her damp as she climbed the porch stairs and raised her hand to knock on Toby's front door. Several moments went by with no response. She knocked again, more urgently. Just as her fist fell away from the door, it opened.

"Spencer?" Judith Marshall-Cavanaugh asked, surprised to see the girl on her doorstep. She took in Spencer's somewhat disheveled appearance, her red eyes, hair in a messy knot, the casual leggings and t-shirt, a thick cardigan thrown over it for warmth. "What are you doing out so late? Is everything okay?"

"Is Toby home?" she replied anxiously. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized cardigan.

"He's upstairs," Judith said with a nod. She pushed the door open wider. "Come in." Spencer awkwardly filed into the entry way, suddenly realizing how out of place she was.

"I'm so sorry," she started. "It's getting late. I should go. I can talk to him later. It's not that important…"

"I'll just go up and let him know you're here," Judith said with a gentle smile, letting her know it was okay to stay. "Why don't you go wait for him in the kitchen?" Spencer nodded and made her way to the kitchen, pulling from memory how to get there even though she'd only been inside the Cavanaugh house a handful of times. She could hear water running from upstairs and was willing to guess Toby was in the shower. She hovered awkwardly, too nervous to sit at the kitchen island. Judith joined her rather quickly.

"It appears Toby is in the shower," she said. "Would you like some coffee while you wait? Toby made it a little while ago and there's still plenty left. I'll have to warn you though, he takes it pretty strong." A chill had settled into Spencer's bones since she'd come out of the rain and she welcomed the idea of something warm.

"Coffee would be wonderful," she replied.

"Cream? Sugar?" Judith offered, already removing a coffee mug from a nearby cabinet.

"No, thank you," Spencer said. She chewed on her bottom lip, uncomfortable around Judith. She didn't know the woman, had never interacted with her. She was 'Jenna's mom' and 'Toby's stepmom.' As Judith handed Spencer a hot mug of coffee, she debated on apologizing to her for her role in Jenna's accident so many years before. Instead, she chose a more neutral topic. "Where's Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Oh, he's sound asleep in front of the TV," she said with a note of fondness. "He likes to say the medicine makes him fall asleep before ten, but he's always done that. Turn on Sports Center and it's like a lullaby. But speaking of Richard, he was showing me some of your work the other day, apparently you're designing one of the homes his firm is working on?"

"I am," Spencer confirmed. "The Sanford house." She took a sip of her coffee and was surprised to find that it was exactly the way she took hers – strong and dark.

For the next ten minutes, Spencer sipped her coffee while chatting with Judith about interior design, offering her thoughts on what could be done to brighten up the kitchen and trading opinions on Emerald as a trendy color. She found herself warming up, not just from the coffee but from the conversation with Judith. Like Richard, Spencer was hard pressed to remember why she'd disliked her so many years ago. The shower cut off and the sound of Toby moving above them took place of the running water. Spencer anxiously glanced at the ceiling, her nerves returning. Judith saw her glance in the direction of Toby's movement and stood from the stools she and Spencer had settled on during their conversation.

"Sounds like Toby is out of the shower," she said. "I'll go get him."

"I'm sorry for stopping by so late," Spencer offered again. Judith smiled at her.

"No need to apologize," she said with a soft smile. Spencer listened as Judith climbed the stairs, then heard the rumble of voices she couldn't make out. A set of footsteps hurrying down the stairs filled the air and moments later, Toby appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing sweats and a white v-neck.

"Spencer," he said. Even though Judith had told him she was there, he was still surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?" Spencer slid off the stool, abandoning her coffee.

"I needed to talk to you," she told him. "I didn't really think about the time until I got here." Toby looked tired, Spencer realized, with dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "I'm sorry to just show up like this but I don't have your phone number and I just… I wanted to talk and so I acted." Spencer shook her head as if clearing away a fog. "Know what? I'll come back. Or meet you somewhere. I'll just… Go…" she started towards the door, aiming to leave, but Toby reached out and gently grabbed her forearm, stopping her.

"It's 10:00 on a Friday night and I'm fresh out of the shower, wearing sweats," he told her. "It's not like you're interrupting major plans. Besides, I was kind of hoping you'd want to talk after – everything."

"I do. Want to talk."

Toby nodded and let go of her arm. He thought for a moment on where they could go to talk in private. His first inclination was his room but he knew Spencer wouldn't be comfortable there. "Let's go out back," he said. "I know it's raining, but the patio is covered and Dad put in a gas fireplace a few years ago so it shouldn't be wet or too cold."

"Okay," Spencer agreed. She followed Toby down the hall and out a back door onto a spacious covered patio. In the daytime, Spencer could tell it would be a beautiful place to relax with a book and cup of coffee. Even in the dark, cold and rainy, it was inviting.

"Have a seat," Toby said, motioning towards a lounge near the stone fireplace. Spencer did as instructed, curling her legs under her and getting comfortable. Toby flipped a switch hidden in the hearth's stonework and a fire flickered to life. Within moments, a comfortable warmth spread towards Spencer. Toby took a seat on the lounge opposite her and looked at her expectedly. She knew it was her turn to do the talking. She took a deep breath.

"You were right," she started. "What you said about how we would have broken up regardless of whether you'd stayed or not is true. We didn't trust each other. We lied to each other, deceived each other. One night in a motel room didn't erase that."

"No," Toby agreed. "It didn't."

"We should have talked about things, about us. We came up with a plan for the lodge that night and then after the fire happened, we just assumed we were back together and that everything was okay. But I wasn't okay, Toby. And neither were you. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Toby leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I just wanted to protect you," he told her earnestly. "Everything I did, before you knew I was on the A Team, and after, was so I could protect you. I already told you, Spencer, I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you."

"I believe that," she told him sincerely. "But do you have any idea how much you hurt me?"

"I do," Toby said softly. "I had to watch, Spencer. Mona made sure I saw you hurting in Radley. She made sure I knew it was because of me. She made sure that I knew you were going through your darkest hours because of the decisions I made. I saw you hurting, Spencer. It nearly killed me."

A chill ran up Toby's spine as he unwillingly remembered the incredible shame he had felt, the way guilt had eaten him from the inside while he helplessly watched Spencer dissolve before his very eyes. It had been like watching the past repeat itself, except it had been the love of his life instead of his mother wasting away in a mental ward.

"You could have done something, anything," she told him. "But you didn't. You let me think you were dead!" Her voice broke and she had to look away to maintain her composure.

"I couldn't," he told her. The urge to go to her, to pull her to him and comfort her, was stronger than ever but he pushed it down. He didn't have that right. "I made it to the gates of Radley more than once, but I couldn't go in. Mona, Red Coat…"

"Cece," Spencer spat, interrupting him. "Cece was Red Coat. Everyone still says 'Red Coat' when they talk about her. This isn't Harry Potter. We can use her name. Cece." Toby nodded in understanding, realizing for the first time that he himself only ever said '–A' or 'Red Coat.' The mysterious figured who had haunted their teen years had actual names. Ezra and Cece. It was high time he started using them.

"Mona, Cece, Ezra, they would have come after you. I wasn't worried about what they might do to me, but they had already broke you and, it seemed, were finally leaving you alone. I couldn't risk setting them off again. And…" Toby swallowed hard, a lump suddenly forming in his throat. "I was afraid to face you."

"But I found you."

"You found me," Toby agreed. He shook his head. "That was one of the best days of my life, getting to hold you again. It was like a dream."

"I guess in a way it was," Spencer conceded. Toby nodded again but couldn't find the right words to form a response. Spencer seemed to sense that they had reached the end of that particular part of the conversation and decided to move on. "I know it wasn't easy for you to tell me about everything you went through with your mom and then Ali and Jenna. But, thank you, for telling me."

"You needed to know," Toby said simply. Spencer shifted around in her seat, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"I understand why you left, at least to an extent. But I'm still angry. I realized this week that I never closed that chapter of my life. It's like that book that you start and never quite get around to finishing. You just place a bookmark between the pages where you left off with a promise to come back later except you never do. You, being here, it's like I've picked that book up again."

Toby studied Spencer, trying to figure out without asking what she was thinking. He knew he still loved her, still wanted her in his life. But he had resigned himself to the fact that she no longer felt the same, that he'd done too much to hurt her to ever have yet another chance with her when he'd already used up more chances than he'd deserved in the first place. It sounded like Spencer might still have unresolved feelings and the little glow of hope he'd allowed himself since he'd returned to Rosewood expanded just a bit.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I don't know," Spencer admitted. "It's all so confusing." Toby nodded.

"It is," he agreed. He tried to suppress a yawn but it came out in a sort of strangled gasp. He'd hoped Spencer hadn't noticed but of course she had.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," she commented, remembering what he'd told her about not getting a good night's sleep in years.

"It's been a rough couple of weeks," he told her. "If it could happen, it did." Just that day he'd figured out his motorcycle was leaking oil and he'd smashed a finger trying to find the source of the leak.

"I guess it happens like that sometimes."

"When it rains, it pours," Toby replied. He noticed then that the rain falling around them had picked up. He grinned. "Literally." To his delight, Spencer let out a short chuckle. Then she stretched her long legs and made to stand.

"I should get going," she told him. "It was already late when I got here."

"I'll walk you out," Toby said. He led them through the quiet house, the other occupants gone to bed. When they walked out onto the front porch, Toby looked for Spencer's car but didn't see any unfamiliar ones parked along the street. "Where's your car?"

"I walked," Spencer told him. She made to step out into the rain but again, Toby reached out to stop her.

"Wait here. I'll drive you home."

"You don't…"

"Be right back," Toby said, effectively ending her protest before it started. She had just enough time to contemplate leaving anyway when he returned with a set of car keys. "Come on."

"Toby, I really can walk…" Toby sighed and turned to her.

"Spencer, it's pouring. You're not walking home." It was raining even harder now and thunder rumbled in the distance. A streak of lightning lit of the sky. Spencer sighed.

"Okay," she agreed, fully aware that Toby was willing to fight her on this. "Drive me home."

She and Toby dashed through the rain, Toby pausing on the passenger's side of his truck just long enough to open the door for her. She climbed in and almost immediately, felt at home. The truck still smelled the same, a mixture of sawdust, leather and Toby. The leather seats were as smooth as ever and an assortment of blueprints and tools littered the dashboard. Except instead of hammers and screwdrivers like so many years ago, there were measuring tools, a compass, a sketch book. As Toby slid behind the wheel, his hair damp from the rain, it was like the last five years had never happened. He gave her a small smile as he cranked up the truck.

The drive to her house took mere minutes. Neither of them spoke, a comfortable silence filling the cab. When Toby came to a stop in front of her home, he turned to her to tell her goodbye but frowned. She was staring out the window, a pensive look on her face.

"Everything okay?" he asked for the second time that night. Spencer turned back to him.

"The power is out," she told him. "Lights were on when I left earlier. I guess the storm knocked the electricity out." Toby took in the apprehensive look on Spencer's face. He could feel the sudden tension in her body. It didn't take him much to realize what was going on.

"I'm walking you inside," he said, already opening his door. "Just until you get some candles lit or whatever."

"Okay," Spencer agreed. Toby raised an eyebrow.

"No arguing?" he asked. "Should I expect a blizzard by morning?" Spencer gave him a look that, even in the dark, he could tell was deadly. He nodded at the door. "Let's get you inside." They both fell out of the truck and ran for the door. Spencer fished her keys out of her pocket and, with the help of the light from Toby's cell phone, let them in. They were greeted by Max who was far more subdued than usual, frightened by the storm. Spencer scooped the dog up.

"I have some candles and a couple of flashlights in the kitchen," she said. "It'll just take me a minute." Spencer stumbled towards kitchen blindly, wondering where she'd left her cell phone as she went. Toby opened his flashlight app once more and followed her, providing her with a thin beam of light. She went to a drawer and easily found what she was searching for. With the exception of matches. She let a curse word fall from her lips.

"What's wrong?" Toby asked.

"I don't have any matches," she told him. She switched on the one flashlight she'd found. "But at least this works."

"You going to be okay here tonight?" he asked, just as another loud crack of lightning sounded, causing Spencer to jump.

"Yeah," she replied in a shaky voice. Toby didn't buy it, but knew he had no grounds to insist that he stayed.

"I guess I should head home then," he said. "Lock the door behind me." He couldn't stop himself from showing at least a sliver of protectiveness when he knew Spencer was uneasy. He started towards the door, leaving Spencer standing in the kitchen with her flashlight. If he would have looked back, he would have seen her deep in thought.

"Toby, wait," she said just as he reached the door. He turned. She sighed as though she hated what she was about to say. "Would you… Could you… Stay?"

Time stopped. Spencer watched him, waiting anxiously for his answer as she struggled to accept that she'd just admitted a weakness and to Toby, of all people. Even though –A had been silent for the better part of five years, there were still moments that sent Spencer looking over her shoulder and expecting the worse. No power in the middle of a storm that raged on was one of those moments. It had been –A's favorite kind of weather to make a move in. Toby took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she wanted him to stay, that she willing admitted to him that she was afraid.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly. Spencer nodded.

"It's been years since my phone chimed with a text from –A, but sometimes, it feels like the last text was just hours ago and I'm still waiting on the next one. The storm, no electricity… It puts me back there. It might make me sound weak, but I don't want to be alone."

"You are anything but weak," Toby told her. "As long as you're okay with this, I'll stay. I didn't want to leave in the first place."

"Thank you," Spencer said. She used her flashlight to make her way to the fridge, Max staying close. "Want something to drink? Looks like everything is still pretty cold. There's water, juice, wine and Diet Coke."

"A Diet Coke wouldn't be awful," Toby said, making his way towards the couch. Spencer remembered just a moment too late that there were things spread around her living room she'd rather Toby not see. Before she could come up with an excuse to stop him, he tripped over an abandoned box, letting a cuss word fly as he caught himself on the sofa. She watched as he shined his cell phone in front of him to see what had caused him to trip. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

Toby leaned down and gingerly picked up a card he recognized all too well. He'd spent an entire afternoon sketching the elaborate heart and lettering and had wrote line after line on notebook paper until he'd settled on what he wanted to say and then transferred it to the inside of the card. In the faint light of his phone, he could see other cards and notes, the wooden 'S' he had made her, trinkets he'd given her, ticket stubs from movies they'd attended on a rare date night. His heart pounded as he took in the remains of their relationship.

A silent movie started playing in his head as he sat down on Spencer's couch, the card still in his hands. Her appearing on his doorstep, offering to tutor him in French. Playing Scrabble. Their first kiss. Nights spent by the fire at her parents' house. Her tossing him the keys to his truck. Reuniting outside the police station. Study break distractions. Their first time. Ruined Anniversaries. Diner reunions. Breakfast. Spencer by his side as he searched for answers about his mom. Dancing with her at the Hoedown. Eyes full of apologies and concern when he'd left her standing on the dance floor, the last time he'd seen her before he left town.

"I can't believe you still have all of this," he said softly. Spencer had edged her way from the kitchen and was now standing on the edge of her living room rug, watching Toby closely. She had two Diet Cokes balanced in one hand, the flashlight in her other.

"My parents are cleaning out their attic. They brought some of my things over. I'd forgotten I kept that box." She still didn't remember making the decision to keep the box as she'd had every intention of throwing it out. Toby didn't say anything. He placed the card on the coffee table and reached for the wooden 'S.' He remembered carving it for her while she'd curled up in a nearby chair with a book, looking up from the pages to occasionally smile at him.

"I guess its physical evidence that we really were happy once," he said. He suddenly felt wearier than he had in a long time. It was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into his bones but it wasn't physical. It was emotional, born from years and years of fighting his own demons and hurting the people he loved. Spencer picked her way through the boxes and various piles of her childhood and sat beside Toby on the couch. She passed him a soda.

"Tell me a story," she prompted. She had discussed their past enough for the day and wanted to focus on something else for a while.

"A story?" Toby asked, his thoughts pulled from the past by her request. Max hopped up on the sofa and settled between them, deeming it a safe place from the storm. Toby noticed then just how close Spencer was to him.

"A story," she repeated. "Anything. Real or imaginary. A fairytale or a tragedy." Toby studied her for a moment. He knew, through whatever unspoken language they had always shared, that she didn't want to talk about the past anymore. At least not for the night. A streak of lightning lit up the living room followed quickly by a long, low rumble of thunder. It rained harder outside. Spencer cut her flashlight off, plunging them into complete darkness.

"When I was a kid, I was obsessed with baseball," he started. "I played on one of the Rosewood Little League teams. I was shortstop, wasn't half bad for a scrawny kid, I guess. My parents were at every game. Dad coached, Mom always brought snacks for the team. After school, I'd run to my room, get my ball and glove, and go outside to wait for Dad to get home. He'd play catch with me nearly every evening. I was obsessed, Spencer. I had baseball posters all over my room, baseball school supplies…

"My favorite team was the Philadelphia Phillies. I watched as many games as I could, threw temper tantrums when my parents would make me go to bed while a game was still going on. I begged and begged them to take me to a game. I wanted so badly to see them play in person, maybe even catch a foul ball. And then, for my eighth birthday, they surprised me with tickets.

"I got to go to Veterans Stadium. It was the last season the Phillies played there before moving over to Citizens Bank Park. We got hotdogs, cracker jacks, foam fingers… We did every possible cliché thing you can do at a ball park. The Phillies won, beat the Blue Jays 3-2 in extra innings. I had to go to school the next day, but my parents let me stay for the whole game. I didn't catch a foul ball, didn't get to meet any of the players, but it was the single greatest moment of my childhood."

"Are you still a fan?" Spencer asked. They had both settled back against the couch comfortably, Spencer idly stroking ax's fur. Toby tried to find her eyes in the dark.

"I am," he affirmed. "Even though it's tough sometimes, given that they seem to forget they play baseball from time to time." Spencer couldn't help but wonder how she didn't know that about Toby. But before she could ask, he was turning the tables. "Your turn. Tell me a story. Real or imaginary." Spencer thought for a few moments.

"When I was four, I was obsessed with _The Wizard of Oz," _she started. "I had ruby red slippers, a stuffed dog that looked like Toto… I even considered naming Max 'Toto' just to pay homage to it, even if he isn't quite the same breed of terrier. _The Wizard of Oz _was to me what baseball was to you.

"Every single day, I would put the movie in and watch it start to finish, sometimes two or three times if I could get away with it. I'd sing along, recite all my favorite lines. My mom had this big rope rug in our living room and I'd pretend it was Yellow Brick Road. I'd get furious if anyone stepped on it while I was skipping through Munchkinland. Melissa used to step on it on purpose which started a number of fights. I'd even pretend to fall asleep in the poppy field."

"Weren't you scared of the flying monkeys?" Toby asked. "Or at least of the Wicked Witch?"

"No," Spencer answered. "They didn't faze me. I knew Dorothy and Glenda the Good Witch would win out in the end. But I watched it so much that my parents got absolutely sick of it. I went to watch it one day and it was gone. I asked what happened to it and my mom told me it had broken and that they'd get me a new one.

"Day after day, I asked if they had bought a new one yet and every day, I got a big, fat 'no.' I finally stopped asking and moved on to whatever I got excited about next. But years later, I was looking for something in my mom's desk and found the VHS buried in the bottom of it. They'd gotten so sick of it that they made the decision to just cut me off cold turkey. I'm still waiting for them to pony up a new copy of it." Toby chuckled.

"Think they'll pay up?" he asked. Spencer snorted.

"Not a chance." The storm continued outside and there was no signs of the electricity coming back anytime soon, but sitting next to Toby, Spencer felt safe. Had Toby not been there, she knew she'd be lying in her bed, wide awake and jumping at every noise, expecting the worse.

"I'm going to go up to bed," she said, standing. Max evacuated the sofa, recognizing the word 'bed.' "I'd offer you the guest room, except I use it as an office and it doesn't have a bed. The sofa will have to do, but it's pretty comfortable. You can use the throw that's draped over the back."

"The sofa is fine," Toby said, knowing he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Spencer took a couple of steps towards the stairs, but turned back to face Toby. It went against her logical sense, the thing she was thinking. But nothing about her and Toby had even been logical.

"Toby, I know you believe in second chances. But what about… fourth ones?"

Toby looked at her. Four chances. The first had been in the motel parking lot. The second the night he'd returned with Dr. Sullivan. The third at the diner. A fourth would be nothing shy of a miracle.

"I've learned to never say never," he said solemnly. He saw Spencer nod in the dim light of the flashlight, a small smile on her face.

"Night, Toby."

"Night, Spencer."

Toby laid down on the sofa once he was sure Spencer was in her bedroom, positive that his racing thoughts would keep him awake. Much to his surprise, he drifted off quickly and likely would have slept through the night had the sound of the power returning not awoken him a few hours later.

**No one is back together, but what a big step in the right direction. I was also pretty happy with how that scene with Toby and Aria turned out. :) ****  
Please let me know what you think!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you all so much for all of your kind words last chapter! I'm so glad so many of you are happy with this story. Please keep voicing your opinions! It may be obvious, but I really do love to write! **

**Also, I promise that everything that seems open ended will be answered throughout the story - Spencer and Toby, their time apartment, dealing with why Toby left, -A, Red Coat... I'm purposefully revealing things slowly. After all, it takes more than one therapy session to work through problems!  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Spence awoke slowly, sunlight pouring into her bedroom while Max licked her face. "Hey, buddy," she rasped, reaching out to scratch the dog, still half asleep. The smell of coffee made it to her nose and she sat bolt upright, remembering that Toby had slept over. She tossed her covers back and ducked into her adjoining bathroom to quickly brush her teeth and wipe smeared makeup away from her eyes.

"Hey," Toby greeted as she made her way into the kitchen. "I made coffee – figured you wouldn't mind."

"I'll never mind waking up to freshly brewed coffee," Spencer said. "When did the power come back on?"

"Sometime around 3AM," Toby answered. "You had enough lights turned on before it went out to risk being mistaken for the Vegas strip. I turned everything off."

"Thanks," Spencer said with a grin. Toby turned and plucked a mug from the cabinet above the coffeemaker. He poured coffee into then held it out to Spencer. "You made yourself right at home," she commented as she took it. There was a twinkle in her eye though that let Toby know she was joking.

"Coffee in a canister by the coffee pot, mugs directly above it. Some things about you will never, ever change," he replied with his own smirk. He was rewarded for his wit with a chuckle. She took a sip.

"That reminds me – the coffee you made last night at your parents' house? Judith poured me some while I was waiting. Since when do you take your coffee strong and dark? I clearly remember you complaining about the strength of my brew."

"Let's just say I've had a change of heart," he replied. He didn't tell her that he'd started making it strong not long after he left because it reminded him of her. Or that it helped him recover from long nights.

"Want some breakfast?" she asked. "I can cook something." In Toby's mind, he could see himself stomping his feet and pouting much in the same manner as a petulant child. He wanted nothing more than to have breakfast with Spencer. But he had other plans that needed to be attended to.

"As much as I would love to stay for breakfast, I can't," he told her. "My dad is getting another treatment today and I promised I'd come to the hospital and sit with him for a while. He likes to have someone there – keeps him occupied."

"He has treatment on a Saturday?" Spencer asked. Toby gave her a sad smile.

"Cancer doesn't stop for the weekend," he reminded her. He really needed to get going so he could swing by his house and change before going to the hospital, but he was rooted to his spot by the coffeemaker, Spencer getting his undivided attention.

"How about some coffee to go?" she asked, noting that he hadn't poured a mug for himself. She pulled one of her many travel mugs from a cabinet and filled it for Toby.

"Thanks," he said as he took it from her, their fingers brushing briefly. "I really should get going. Judith took Dad in really early this morning. I should relieve her so she can run some errands, get some time to herself." Spencer nodded and they walked to her door.

"Thanks for staying last night," Spencer told him. Her fear the previous night seemed silly now, standing in the light of the morning. "I appreciate it."

"It was nothing," Toby said with a shake of his head. "Thanks for letting me." Spencer smiled at him and he decided now was as good as any to put a plan into motion to win her back, slowly but surely. "But about that breakfast…"

"What about it?" Spencer asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I like breakfast. I also like frozen yogurt. I could use some this evening, after spending the day with my dad in the cancer wing of a hospital. Think you might be interested in joining me?" Spencer gave him a genuine smile then.

"I think I would be," she agreed. He handed her his phone.

"Why don't you put your number in there?" he asked. "I'll text you when I leave the hospital." Spencer tapped in her number and saved it.

"I'll see you tonight," she told him.

"See you tonight," Toby replied. He turned and descended the stairs, a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. Spencer wore one of her own as she attached a leash to Max's collar and prepared to take him on a morning walk.

* * *

Toby studied the cards in his hand, thinking about his next move. Richard waited, watching his son intently. Toby made his selection and laid his cards down.

"Oh, come on!" Richard mumbled as he wrote down 17 points for Toby.

"Relax, old man. We're playing to 150. I've only got 53 points."

"I'd be less annoyed if you hadn't already beat me squarely once," Richard replied. "And watch who you're calling old." Toby just grinned and waited for his father to make the next move. Richard took his time, surveying his hand closely.

"You're a sore loser," Toby said with a half grin, purposefully egging his father on even as he observed him with a critical eye that had nothing to do with cards. He was aware that chemo was taking its toll. Richard had lost weight and his skin had taken on a greyish tint. He hadn't lost his hair like so many of the other patients receiving treatment but he had dealt with sores in his mouth during the previous treatment and Toby was willing to bet the same thing would happen this go around. His appetite was still relatively good though and while it took him progressively longer to recover from treatment each time, he was still fairly strong.

"So you didn't come home last night," Richard ventured. He laid down a few cards and wrote down 19 points for himself. "Don't think that went unnoticed."

"I'm an adult," Toby reminded him. "I don't have a curfew."

"But you do have a history of taking off in the middle of the night without so much as a note." Toby sighed, aware that the jab was well deserved. "Judith told me Spencer came over last night and that the two of you went out back to talk. She said Spencer looked upset. Given the history between you two, it was a natural assumption that something happened and you took off again."

"I drove Spencer home," Toby told him. "The storm knocked out the electricity and she asked me to stay."

"Oh really?" Richard asked. "Just like that, Spencer, the girl you haven't seen or talked to in five years, the same girl that you left without a word, asked you to spend the night?"

"She didn't want to be alone," Toby said. "Dark, stormy nights were Ezra and Cece's specialty. Five years and life in jail sentences don't erase everything."

"You know, I know what Jenna's involvement in all of that was. It was petty and she's lucky probation is all she got. She owes Veronica Hastings a lot for that. But I've never been clear on yours."

"Jenna was helping Melissa keep Spencer safe," Toby said. "As much as I hate to say it, she shouldn't have even gotten probation. Melissa didn't."

"Melissa was smarter than Jenna," Richard reminded Toby. "Stop avoiding the question."

"You didn't exactly ask a question," Toby pointed out.

"Toby," Richard warned. Toby sighed, realizing his father wasn't going to let it go.

"You're not going to like it," he warned.

"Well I didn't exactly expect you to tell me you were being given a medal of honor for your actions," Richard replied. He fixed him with the same look he'd pierced him with growing up, just before they discussed a less than acceptable grade or suspicions of rule breaking. Toby relented himself to the fact that he would have to tell the truth.

"I joined the A-Team," he started. "It was to keep Spencer safe. I did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of, but I did my best to keep Spencer and her friends from any real harm. Except it backfired. Mona staged my death and manipulated things so Spencer would find the decoy body in the woods. I never asked who the body actually was or how she got it, I didn't want to know.

"When Spencer found the body, it sent her into a downward spiral and she ended up in Radley. She stayed there for two weeks, first for observation, then because she thought she needed to be there. To make a really long story short, Mona recruited her for the A-Team. She joined to keep her friends safe, work from the inside, just like I did. She figured out I was alive and confronted me at a diner outside of Rosewood. And that's my involvement."

"When you say you did stuff you're not proud of, what does that entail?" Richard pressed, not satisfied with what he knew.

"Why are we talking about this?" Toby countered, growing frustrated. He'd done his damnedest to move past it and yet it seemed to be a popular topic of conversation these days.

"Because I want to know," Richard said with enough force to make the patients receiving treatment around him look his way. "I know we've had our ups and downs over the years, but until you're a parent and your child disappears on you periodically for months on end, you won't understand what it feels like to worry day in and day out about whether your child is okay, whether he's got a warm place to stay and food to eat, whether he's hurt or worse, you can't understand what I went through each time you took off without so much as a smoke signal explaining why."

Toby took several deep breaths, his eyes on his cards which he'd abandoned. His first reaction was to retort, to fire back with all the examples he could think up of how his father had been anything but a parent to him. Instead, he let bygones be bygones, opting not to fight with his father when he was hooked to a chemo drip that was only prolonging his life.

"It was mostly petty things, taking photos and videos, reporting back on what I'd learned from the girls, stuff like that. I followed Hanna to a fake job interview once. I shoved a bunch of mannequins into her, scared her pretty bad. I slashed Emily's tires in the middle of nowhere. I tried to rundown Lucas – remember him? – on his skateboard one night. I wasn't trying to kill him. A kid on a skateboard could never outrun a Tahoe. I just needed to scare him, send him a message.

"The worse thing I did was trap Spencer in her family's sauna. I did that because I was jealous. She'd been out with Wren and I hated seeing anyone with her besides me. I felt awful about it as soon as I done it so I texted Aria – as –A – and told her to go to Spencer's. I did other things to help the girls – called Emily to warn her the night she was at that cabin with that Lyndon guy, was selective in what I told Mona. I gave her just enough information to trust me, nothing she could really use to hurt Spencer. When Spencer found me at that diner, I got out. We both did." A chill ran up his spine as he remembered the fire and how close they had all been to losing their lives.

"Toby…," Richard sighed, shaking his head. "There were other ways to protect Spencer. Namely, telling someone. Me. Her parents. The cops."

"I know," Toby admitted. "We were young. We didn't trust the cops. And Ezra and Cece targeted anyone the girls cared about, parents included. No one told because we didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

Richard let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair. His nurse came by and checked on him, giving Toby a few moments of reprieve. He massaged his temples, a headache threatening. He took out his phone and found where Spencer had entered her number. He thought about texting her but couldn't come up with something clever to say before the nurse left, putting him back at his father's mercy.

"What did Spencer want when she came over last night?" Richard asked.

"She wanted to talk about some things," Toby said. "She and I… We've been talking. I owed her a lot of explanations."

"And?" Richard prompted.

"And, she agreed to meet me this evening for frozen yogurt." Richard let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"And here you were, saying you didn't have a chance with Spencer." Toby allowed himself to grin bashfully.

"It's just frozen yogurt," he said, trying to be realistic. "Not wedding bells."

"Have you told her about…?"

"No," Toby shook his head, knowing his dad was talking about the time he spent away from Rosewood. "She knows that I found out the truth about Mom and that I went to school. She's smart, so I'm sure she's picked up on the fact that there are things I haven't told her. Which means she will inevitably ask me about it and I'll have to tell her."

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

"Of course," Toby said with absolute certainty. "I couldn't lie to her again."

"If Spencer gives you another chance, take it," Richard advised. "I'd give anything for one more chance with your mother." Toby nodded.

"I know," he said. He gathered up the cards and started to shuffle. "Let's start over."

* * *

Of all of her friends, Spencer was sure that Aria's small apartment best reflected its resident. She had helped Hanna decorate every room in her house and while it was very Hanna – and a tad of Caleb – it was also a space meant for entertaining. With its mismatched furniture, turquoise walls and the odds and ends Aria had picked up from her travels and weekends spent antiquing, it fit her quirky friend perfectly and the only thing she herself had contributed to the space were a few framed photos, gifts to Aria over the years they'd known one another.

"That storm last night was insane," Aria commented as she joined Spencer on her worn but comfortable couch. She opened the lid of her takeout salad while Spencer dug into one of her own. "I seriously considered going over to Mom and Zach's for the night."

"Insane is a word for it," Spencer replied, picking at her salad, her thoughts elsewhere. Aria noticed.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Huh?" Spencer countered, being pulled out of her thoughts.

"You were in a whole other world there for a few. What's up?" Spencer sighed.

"The storm wasn't insane just because of high winds and heavy rains," she told Aria. "It was insane because I asked Toby to spend the night." Aria spewed the soda she'd just taken a sip of from her mouth.

"You did what?" she demanded.

"That came out wrong," Spencer said, realizing how it must have sounded to Aria.

"Did it? Because I'm pretty sure I heard 'I asked Toby to spend the night.'"

"I went over to his place last night to talk about some stuff," Spencer explained. "It was a split second decision and I walked there. It was only drizzling then. I stayed for an hour or so and by the time I left, it was pouring so he offered to drive me home. The lights were out and so, for the same reason you considered going to your mom's, I asked him to stay. He slept on the sofa and made coffee this morning before he left to go to the hospital with his dad."

"That's it?" Aria prompted.

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"I may have agreed to meet him for frozen yogurt tonight." It was Aria's turn to sigh.

"Spencer, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm trying to figure some things out," Spencer answered. She'd had some time to think about her intentions with Toby while eating a muffin and drinking the coffee he'd made. "I never got closure, Aria. He's been honest with me, answered every question I've asked him, told me things that couldn't have been easy for him to share. I've never known Toby without the threat of –A hanging over us. I don't know. I guess I just… Want to see what happens." She felt like a hypocrite for saying '–A' after giving Toby such a hard time about it, but Aria was different. It was safer to use the pseudo name in front of her.

"You know, I actually talked to Toby a couple days ago," Aria ventured. She hadn't had the opportunity to tell Spencer yet, but now seemed as good as any.

"You did?" Spencer asked in surprise. "When? Where?"

"Thursday night at the gym," Aria answered. "He was beating the hell out of a punching bag. I'd been wanting to ask him a question and I took the chance while he was alone and I had the courage."

"What did you ask him?" Spencer pressed. Aria pushed around a piece of lettuce with her fork.

"I asked him if he knew Ezra was –A," she admitted quietly. "I didn't think he did – he would have done anything to keep you safe – but I had to ask him."

"What did he say?"

"He swore he didn't," Aria told her. "He told me exactly what I just said to you – if he'd have known, he would have done whatever he had to do to take Ezra down in order to make sure he didn't hurt you. Or us, because if anything had happened to us, to quote Toby, 'Spencer would have never recovered.'"

"I believe that," Spencer said with a resolute nod of her head.

"You know, he also asked about you, how you dealt with things after he left," Aria ventured.

"And?" Spencer was curious.

"I told him the truth. You took it hard, but there was enough going on to keep you occupied." Spencer took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly.

"He hasn't asked me about how I handled things," she told Aria. "Honestly, we really haven't talked about the time after he left or what we've done the last five years past school and him telling me about his mom. He's said things that make me think he hasn't told me everything yet, but I'm willing to give him the chance to."

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for my friend, Spencer Hastings?" Aria said, pretending to search the room for Spencer. "She looks an awful lot like you, but she would be standing at Toby Cavanaugh's door demanding every detail about the last five years, right down what he had for breakfast on the Fourth of July three years ago, instead of being willing to hear him out whenever he felt like talking."

"Funny," Spencer scoffed. "True, but still."

"I'm just trying to figure out why you've been so – relaxed – about Toby's reappearance. I'd have thought you'd be more bitter about things."

"There's a part of me that is bitter," Spencer admitted. "But we went through so much in high school and we've all spent the last five years trying to move on. I guess somewhere between all the therapy and the time that's passed, I have a different perspective. Or at the very least, I'm willing to hear someone out before I react or pass judgment."

"For what it's worth, Toby is still as in love with you as ever," Aria told her. Spencer looked at her old friend.

"He might," she admitted. "At least, I think he might have some residual feelings." Aria knew Toby's feelings were more than residual, but she had another burning question she wanted to ask rather than argue about Toby's feelings.

"What about you?" Spencer took several bites of her salad, chewing slowly, before answering Aria.

"I still have feelings for him," she confessed. "I don't know what they mean or what's going to happen, but there's still something there. I owe it to myself to figure that out."

"At the very least, you'll get closure," Aria said, understanding what Spencer was doing. Spencer nodded.

"At the very least," she repeated although deep down, she knew she was hoping for a much happier ending. "I've never known Toby in a world without –A. I want to. I want to know him without worrying that he'll be a target or that I'm putting him in danger simply by holding his hand."

"And without him fighting to keep you safe," Aria supplied. "I guess it makes sense." The two girls resumed eating in silence. Neither of them spoke until Spencer closed the lid on her empty salad box.

"You know, Aria, I'm not the only one who can move on, let the past be just that – the past."

"Spencer…" Aria started.

"No, Aria. We've all been there for you, supporting you and giving you our shoulders to cry on. But it's been five years. I know Ezra hurt you beyond anything imaginable, beyond even when Toby did to me. But you can't keep living your life like this, keeping yourself locked away from love. Not all guys are Ezra. _No one _is Ezra. As a rule, people aren't that twisted. I hate seeing you shutting yourself like this."

"It's not that easy," Aria said.

"I know," Spencer said gently. "But Aria, you can't live like this, holding on to hurt that happened so long ago."

"I _want _to fall in love again," Aria admitted, her voice small. "I'd be happy with just going on a date. But it's so hard to put myself out there."

"You just have to jump," Spencer told her. "Say 'yes' the next time a guy asks you out. Because let's be real, Aria. You're hot. Guys ask you out all the time."

"If I promise to _try _to say yes, will you drop this?" Aria asked.

"For now," Spencer countered.

"Guess I'll have to agree to that," Aria said. "Let's change the subject. Pick the topic. Anything but boys."

Toby leaned against the frozen yogurt shop, trying to appear casual and collected as he waited for Spencer. His stomach was in knots from nerves, eager to see Spencer, anxious to spend time with her. He needed this to go well. He needed to have a normal conversation with Spencer, make some progress with her. She'd teased him with yet another chance and he couldn't let that go. He was mentally rehearsing what he wanted to say by way of greeting when Spencer appeared at the end of the street.

She took his breath away. It was cliché and made him seem like a lovesick puppy, but it was true. As she walked towards him, a bright smile on her face, he couldn't help but return it with a smile of her own. She was dressed casually, skinny jeans and a simple top with black flats on her feet. Her hair cascaded around her in long waves, just the way he'd always liked.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hi," he replied, the smooth greeting he'd dreamed up going straight out the door. "You look nice." He hadn't meant to let the complement escape from his lips, didn't want to be too forward, but he'd lost all good sense when she spoke.

"You clean up pretty well yourself," Spencer replied, taking in his jeans and long sleeve t-shirt. It was a fairly standard outfit for him, but Spencer couldn't ignore how well the shirt fit his form.

"Shall we?" Toby asked, nodding towards the shop's door.

"We shall," Spencer agreed. She allowed Toby to open the door for her, smiling at his chivalry. While Toby reached for a stack of sample cups, Spencer went straight for her old standby – vanilla.

"Spencer," Toby said, giving her a look.

"What?" she asked, already moving to fill her cup.

"Branch out," he said. He took her cup before she could get it in position beneath the dispenser. He bypassed the coffee blend and filled one of the samples with a flavor Spencer couldn't see the name of. He turned back to her and passed her the sample. "Try this." With some trepidation, Spencer took the cup and retrieved one of the small sample spoons. She got a spoonful and popped it into her mouth. Almost immediately, she made a face.

"What is that?" she asked, shoving the sample at Toby who polished off the rest of it in one bite.

"Maple bacon donut," he answered. "It's the best one they have." Spencer grimaced.

"You are such a guy," she informed him. Toby shrugged.

"It's good," he said. He handed her her own stack of sample cups. "Just try a few flavors before you go with what you're comfortable with."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Spencer took him up on his offer and tried a number of the flavors. She broke down and filled her cup with both cake batter and cinnamon roll flavored yogurt and topped it with an assortment of nuts, sprinkles and a few choice candies. She went to pay the cashier when Toby stopped her.

"I've got it," he said, adding his own cup to the scale.

"Toby, no…," Spencer tried. He turned to look at her, a familiar look in his eye that let her know she wasn't getting her way on this. She relented, watching as Toby handed cashier a $20 and waited for his change. She was strongly reminded of how he had been one of the few people who could reason with her and, in his case, do so with a simple look.

"Inside or outside?" he asked, picking up her cup and handing it to her.

"Outside," Spencer responded. "It's a little chilly, but it's quieter on the patio." It was hard to argue with that statement as a several children and their parents filled the inside space, many of the kids wearing soccer uniforms.

"After you," Toby replied. He allowed her to lead the way outside, reaching past her only to push open the door. They settled at a table in the corner of their patio, the only other occupied table on the opposite end, the two teenagers sitting there more interested in each other's lips than the ice cream in front of them.

"That looks disgusting," Spencer said, pointing at Toby's ice cream with her spoon. He had filed his bowl with a number of flavors and had everything from fruit bits to cereal to chocolate sauce for toppings.

"Looks are deceiving," he told her. "Want to try it?"

"No, thanks," she retorted. "It reminds me of what little kids do at fast food restaurants when they fill their drink cups with a squirt of each soda the machine has."

"But this is better," Toby said. "This is ice cream." Spencer couldn't help but allow herself to laugh lightly.

"How's your dad?" she asked.

"Okay for now. They keep him in the hospital overnight for observation after a treatment. He usually ends up staying a day or two longer, depending on how things go. It takes about 24 hours for the full effects of the treatment to catch up with him. Judith is with him now. I'll go over again tomorrow." Spencer stirred at her ice cream, debating on whether she wanted to confess something to Toby. She decided it couldn't hurt.

"He and I talked a few weeks ago," she ventured.

"You and my dad?" Toby clarified, not sure he heard her right. She nodded.

"I was at The Brew waiting on Hanna and Aria to pick me up so we could go to my parents' lake house. He asked if he could join me."

"What did he want?" Toby asked. He pushed down the fear that his father had told Spencer something – anything – that he'd rather have told her himself. Surely she would have brought it up already. Spencer took a bite of her ice cream before she answered.

"He asked me to listen to you," she told him. "He didn't know that we'd already made plans to talk the next week, but that's what he wanted – to ask me to hear you out whenever you decided to explain things to me." Toby didn't say anything and Spencer feared she'd crossed a line she didn't realize existed. "He really loves you, Toby. He just… He knew I had my friends in my corner. He wanted to make sure you had someone in yours." Several more moments passed before Toby spoke.

"He and I have had our differences over the years," he said. "But he's been there for me when I've needed him." Toby didn't offer Spencer anything else and she didn't press, deciding Toby would tell her whatever he clearly wasn't when he was ready.

"How's the bank project going?" she asked. It was the change of topic Toby needed. For the next hour, they just talked. They talked about work, the week behind them and the week ahead. Toby told Spencer all about his ups and downs the previous week and she told him about her frustrations with Hanna and her boutique and the fact that Hanna's grand opening was just a couple of weeks away and they hadn't so much as painted a wall.

"She sounds like a Hastings," Toby said with a twinkle in his eye as Spencer finished up a story about Melissa's daughter Abby and a standoff with her Mother's Day Out teacher over naptime.

"She's definitely got the Hastings genes," Spencer confirmed fondly. "Her birthday party is a week from today. Melissa is going all out. You'd think she was turning sixteen instead of two. Our birthday parties were store bought cake, a few balloons and pin the tail on the donkey. Melissa's got food trucks and bouncy castles booked."

"No offense, but will she even remember it?" Toby asked.

"Of course not," Spencer said with a shake of her head. "But it'll look good in Melissa's Instagram feed." Toby laughed, not at all surprised that Melissa would show off her child's elaborate second birthday party. Spencer's phone chimed, alerting her that she had a text. She looked at it and saw it was from Hanna, letting her know she would be at her house in fifteen minutes for their pizza and movie night. "I should go," she said. Toby could hear the reluctance in her voice which he took as encouragement. "Hanna is coming over for pizza and movies."

"So you had dessert before dinner?" Toby asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Looks like it," Spencer confirmed. "I had lunch with Aria, frozen yogurt with you and now pizza with Hanna. I'm basically eating my way through Saturday." Toby laughed as he stood and took their empty cups to a nearby trashcan.

"Did you drive or walk?" he asked.

"Walked. I'm just a couple of blocks up."

"Can I walk you to your door?" Toby asked, his smile hopeful.

"You may," Spencer confirmed. They set out down the sidewalk in the direction of Spencer's house. Spencer walked close to Toby, her arm brushing his occasionally. Toby flexed his fingers, tempted to reach out and take Spencer's hand. He didn't want to push it, didn't want to scare her off when he thought he was making progress, so he resisted, barely.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said. "It was nice to just have a normal afternoon for a change." Spencer looked at him. She had noticed almost as soon as she'd spotted him waiting for her against the building that he still looked tired and weary, despite his upbeat manner.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Toby said automatically, giving her a half grin that betrayed the truth.

"Toby," Spencer warned. Toby sighed. He would never know how he managed to hide his A Team involvement from Spencer so long when she had always been able to see through him.

"It's my dad," he said. "It's hard, you know, watching him go through this, knowing the outcome. He's been the strong one when it should be me, being strong for him. It's just a lot, trying to help take care of him, work, study for my licensure exam. I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, there's just a lot going on. It gets overwhelming sometimes." There was no need to point out the thing he'd left out – their fragile relationship, if it could even be called a relationship, kept them both more than a little preoccupied as of late.

"I can imagine," Spencer said. "When do you take your exam?"

"Two weeks from today."

"Well if you need any help studying, I happen to know someone who can make flashcards with the best of them."

"Don't think I won't take you up on that," Toby told her. He wanted to spend time with her, even if it involved studying. They had reached Spencer's sidewalk and Toby knew it was time to part ways, at least for the night. "I guess, since you know someone that can make really great flashcards, it would be okay to give you a call sometime this week?"

"It would be," Spencer confirmed.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said again. "Have fun with Hanna."

"Thanks for the ice cream," Spencer countered. "Tell your dad hi for me."

"I will," Toby promised.

They were standing inches apart. Both could feel the pull between them, drawn together like two magnets. Toby reached for Spencer just as she lifted her arms to reach for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he encircled her waist and held her tightly to him, breathing in the blend of her perfume and shampoo. The loose piece of his soul that had been rattling around, keeping him up at night, for the last five years, finally snapped into place. It dislodged again the moment Spencer ended their embrace.

"I'll talk to you later," she said with a soft smile. Toby nodded, returning her smile with one of his own.

"Later," he agreed. He turned and walked away as Spencer made her way to her house. Before he turned the corner, he looked over his shoulder to see Spencer entering her home. She gave him a small wave.

Inside, Spencer stooped down to greet Max, her body still tingling from Toby's embrace. She'd felt safe in his arms for those few moments, like she was home, even. As Max ran for a ball to bring her, she made her way further into her house and glanced at the digital clock on her stove. Toby had reminded her of something else besides what it was like to be in his arms. She dug her phone out of her purse and dialed a familiar number. Hanna would be there any minute, but she would have to wait. She needed to tell her parents that she loved them. Because she still could.

**And there you have it - some Spoby, some progression of some of the other smaller storylines... Hopefully it didn't disappoint! **

**Those two need to kiss already...**

**Please let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Why yes, an update! I'm so sorry it took me a while to get this up - real life is busy and included some business travel. Hopefully a long update will make up for it! **

**Recapping last chapter since its been a while - Toby** **spent the night at Spencer's and invited her to frozen yogurt (it wasn't _really _a date...) And Toby had a pretty good talk with his dad and Spencer had a pretty good talk with Aria. But the frozen yogurt was the best part!**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It really does mean so much!**

* * *

Toby grinned to himself as he read Spencer's cheeky text about Melissa's party planning as he walked down the street, no real destination in mind. He quickly tapped out a response and pressed send. He hadn't seen her since their frozen yogurt outing on Saturday and even though it was only Tuesday, it felt more like a lifetime. He had taken a chance and texted her a simple hello on Sunday evening and since then, it had been commonplace for his phone to chime with texts from her on a fairly regular basis.

He knew better than to get ahead of himself. They certainly weren't a couple and they most definitely had plenty left to discuss. There were a number of hurdles in their way before they would even stand a chance at making things work but, for the first time in a long time, he felt optimistic. His phone chimed again and he chuckled at her clever response, pausing for a moment to think up one of his own. He'd just hit 'send' when he heard someone calling his name.

"Toby!" Toby looked around just in time to see Caleb Rivers waving at him as he dashed across the street. He stopped and waited.

"Caleb," he said, offering his hand when he was close enough. "It's been a while."

"It has," Caleb replied, giving him a firm handshake. "I'm surprised I haven't ran into you sooner. You've been back in town how long now? Two months?"

"Not quite, but close," Toby said with shrug. "I've been keeping a pretty low, just working mostly."

"The way I hear it, you're chasing Spencer down every waking moment of every single day," Caleb said with the faintest of grins.

"I'm not Hanna's favorite person," Toby acknowledged, knowing Caleb's source of information.

"She's just protective," Caleb said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm pretty sure Spencer is more than capable of taking care of herself." He'd listened to a number of Hanna's tirades about Toby's return to Rosewood and subsequent involvement with Spencer, but that was all he had done. He cared about Spencer, but she could make her own decisions.

"Spencer isn't exactly made of glass," Toby agreed.

"So what are you up to right now?" Caleb asked. "Want to grab a drink? Catch up for a few? Hanna is holding Aria and Spencer hostage at her boutique and I only just got away after installing her computer system. I'm in no hurry to go back, let alone go home and cook for myself."

"Um, yeah, sure," Toby said. He pointed to The Grille which was up ahead. "The Grille good?"

"Perfect," Caleb confirmed. "I can get food too."

The two made small talk as they made their way to The Grille. They were shown to a table near the back of the restaurant and Caleb ordered a beer before they even sat down.

"Coffee for me," Toby told the waitress. "And a glass of water, if you don't mind."

"Coffee?" Caleb asked as he shed his light coat. "A nice cold beer is much more satisfying after a long day at the office."

"I'll be up late studying," Toby said. "I need the caffeine."

"Studying for what?"

"Architect licensure exam," Toby replied. "Taking it a week from Saturday."

"That's right. Hanna said you were a, to quote, 'architect or something' now.'

"Or something," Toby said with the hint of a grin. "I'm kind of a pseudo architect until I pass my exam. What are you doing these days?"

Caleb started telling him about his IT business and moved on to what he'd been up to over the last several years. Toby laughed at all the right places and asked all the right questions, but while he was enjoying reconnecting with the one male friend he'd had in Rosewood, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. Caleb was living a similar life to the one he'd imagined for himself once upon a time. He'd had visions of marrying Spencer, building a home, raising a family. He'd even looked forward to telling his grandkids one day about how he'd married his high school sweetheart. He could only blame himself for how things had turned out, but he couldn't help but think 'what if.'

"So… You and Spencer?" Caleb asked after the waiter refilled Toby's coffee and brought Caleb another beer.

"That's seems to be everyone's favorite question," Toby quipped.

"Rosewood is a small town," Caleb reminded him. "You and Spencer make big news."

"Well, if you want a firsthand account, here it is: Spencer and I are – friends. Sort of. We'll see what happens from there." Caleb snorted.

"You and Spencer can never be just friends," he said. "You'll either end up married to her or as a smoking pile of rubble."

"That's probably a true statement," Toby admitted. He and Spencer's relationship had always seemed to hit the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. There had never been a happy in-between, just a skyrocket to the peak before a free fall to the valley below. Caleb took a long swig of his beer and then reached for his half-eaten burger.

"I have to ask," he started. "Why'd you take off all those years ago?"

"Hanna hasn't reiterated that story?" Toby countered, knowing full well Spencer would have told the girls at least some of his story.

"No offense, but you aren't Hanna's favorite topic of discussion," Caleb said. "Besides when she's ranting about how Spencer is a fool for spending time with you, of course." Toby sighed. He knew Hanna would be the hardest of Spencer's friends to crack but he had too much on his plate to worry about what Hanna thought of him, at least for now.

"It's a long, complicated story," Toby told Caleb, truly appreciating that Caleb was a guy's guy and wouldn't expect a long, detailed explanation. "I had a lot of stuff going on and the weight of it all just got too heavy."

"So you ran," Caleb said. He knew a thing or two about that himself.

"Yeah," Toby admitted. "I did. And I've regretted it every day since."

"What took you so long to come back?"

Of all the questions Toby had been asked about his time away, no one had asked him that. It was almost refreshing. He took a swig from his water glass before answering.

"It's hard to face your past," he told Caleb. "I found a lot of excuses to stay away. And then I found an excuse to come home."

"Your dad," Caleb guessed. Toby nodded. He didn't tell Caleb that Spencer had always been enough of a reason, but he hadn't been brave enough to face her. His father was a built in excuse to come home, a way for him to return to Rosewood and position himself to see where he stood with Spencer.

"Funny how life works sometimes," Toby commented. Caleb nodded his agreement.

"Say, you being an architect and all, do you take on smaller projects?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Smaller projects?"

"Hanna and I want to build a deck on the back of our house," he told Toby. "Not just any old deck, but a big one we can entertain on, maybe have a hot tub. There's a little deck out there now, but nothing impressive. Interested in taking a look, maybe sketching something out for us?"

"Interested, yes," Toby said. "But I doubt Hanna would be okay with me working on her home."

"There are two people in my marriage," Caleb said. "I spent a lot of time letting Hanna dictate the way things were going to go. Now, it's a lot more 50/50."

"Spoken like a man," Toby said with a touch of amusement.

"Let's just say Hanna and I spent a lot of time talking things out in premarital counseling," Caleb retorted.

"The money all of us have spent on therapy would probably feed a third world country for years," Toby mused.

"Truth," Caleb agreed with the nod of his head. "But seriously, about the deck. Wanna stop by, check out what you're working with? We can even arrange for you to be there without Hanna. It's not hard – she's pretty much at her boutique 24/7 right now, trying to get it ready for opening."

"I'll check it out," Toby agreed. He checked his watch. "I should get going. I've got an early meeting with a client in the morning and I want to get some studying done before I turn in."

"Yeah, I should go run Hanna out of the boutique for the night and then get to work."

"Work?" Toby asked. It was already after 8:00. Caleb shrugged.

"I'm a night owl," he said. "I do my best work in the wee hours of the morning. Setting my own hours is a perk of the job." The two paid their separate bills and headed out on the restaurant. Before they went their separate ways, they exchanged business cards.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow," Toby said, slipping Caleb's card in his wallet. "See when I can stop by and take a look at your space."

"Is this your number scratched out on the back?" Caleb asked, surveying the card Toby had handed him.

"Yeah, that's mine. I haven't printed my own cards yet – waiting to pass my exam."

"Makes sense," Caleb said, pocketing the card. He extended his hand to Toby. "Welcome home, man. It's good to see you around here again." Toby smiled at Caleb's sincere words.

"Thanks," he said as he shook Caleb's hand. "It's good to be back."

* * *

"After the contract for construction has been awarded, the contractor shall next prepare which of the following for the architect's review?" Spencer asked, reading from the flashcard in her hand.

"A schedule for construction," Toby replied almost immediately.

"Correct. Outline specifications written during the programming phase of a project are generally broken down by?"

"Divisions," Toby answered easily.

"Right again. Last one: The threshold for sound levels that cause fatigue after prolonged exposure is approximately?"

"80db."

"Yep," Spencer confirmed, returning the last flashcard to her pile. Toby had breezed through the quiz session, impressing Spencer with his knowledge of things she'd had no idea went into constructing a building. "You are going to ace this thing."

"Or at least the programming, planning and practice part of it," Toby amended. He picked up a sketch of the building site he'd been analyzing before Spencer's arrival and studied it, comparing what he'd sketched to the study guide's answer key. He was pleased to see that he had correctly – and easily – outlined the area suitable for buildings only and the area of the lot suitable for surface improvements.

"How many parts of the exam are there?" Spencer asked, reaching for a nearby study guide.

"Seven. They each have multiple-choice, fill-in-the-blank, and check-all-that-apply questions as well as graphic vignettes."

"And I thought the SATs were harsh," Spencer mumbled. She was fascinated by the material. She knew some of it, or at least had heard of it before, in her interior design classes, but most of it was foreign, another language written in English that she didn't understand and yet Toby seemingly spoke fluently.

"Thanks for helping me study," Toby said. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Spencer replied. "Although I don't think you need me. You could pass this test in your sleep."

"Of course I need you," Toby said. "You're the world's greatest flash card maker." _And the love of my life, _he added to himself. He smiled as Spencer shook her head by way of dismissing his compliment. "Stay for dinner," he heard himself saying. "Dad and Judith are out – he had an appointment and then they were going to get dinner, maybe catch a movie. I always cook too much food when it's just me so really, you'd be helping me out."

"By eating your food?" Spencer asked. Toby nodded.

"Otherwise, it would just go to waste and there are starving kids in Africa…" Spencer held up her hand to stop him.

"I'll stay," she said with an amused grin.

"Good," Toby said, already moving from the stool he'd been perched on as they'd studied in the kitchen. "Chicken or beef?"

"Chicken," Spencer replied, gathering their study material into a neat pile. "Can I help?"

"There's some carrots in the bottom drawer of the fridge and some potatoes in the pantry. Can you peel and dice those?"

"I can," Spencer confirmed.

"And pour yourself a glass of wine or grab a beer if you want one," he added. Spencer fetched the carrots and potatoes and then found the beer in the fridge.

"Want one?" she asked, retrieving two bottles.

"No, I'm good," Toby said as he poured some olive oil into a pan. "But I'll take a soda if you don't mind." His back to Spencer, he didn't see her study him with a critical eye as she replaced one of the beers and took out a soda. She popped the top on the can for Toby and was about to ask for a bottle opener when he wordlessly opened a drawer and passed one to her. She took a knife from the knife block on the counter and went to work on the potatoes.

"You don't drink anymore," she stated as she peeled. She watched as Toby's motions stilled at the stove. It took him a few moments to turn around and face her.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"You turned down wine when you came over to my place for dinner," she said. "Caleb told me the two of you caught up at The Grill a couple nights ago – and that you drank coffee and water the whole night. You just turned down a beer in favor of a soda. I may not have followed my parents' into law, but I can still sniff out the truth." Toby sighed and leaned back against the counter. He'd never understand how he'd managed to hide his A-Team involvement when Spencer had the nose of a bloodhound and the mind of an Einstein.

"I don't drink anymore," he confirmed. "Haven't in well over a year."

"Why?" Spencer countered. Toby turned back to the stove, but kept his body angled so Spencer knew he wasn't ignoring her.

"I was drinking too much," he told her. "I was making bad decisions – not that I need alcohol to make those. So I stopped." Spencer studied the beer in her hand.

"Does it bother you that I'm drinking this?" she asked. Toby shook his head.

"No. Sometimes it's hard to say no. but I know what happens when I go too far. Drinking water instead of beer is a small price to pay for maintaining my dignity." Spencer eyed the bottle in her hand, trying to decide whether she should continue drinking the beer in his presence, not wanting to be disrespectful. Toby glanced over his shoulder and took in her speculative state. "It's okay," he assured her. "Have a beer. I've got my soda. I'm fine."

"Know it all," Spencer mumbled as she took a swig from the bottle. She heard Toby chuckle as he worked at the stove. They made small talk as they cooked together, Toby telling Spencer an amusing story about one of his clients, Spencer filling him in on the progress they had made at Hanna's boutique over the last couple of days. Toby plated their dinner once it was ready while Spencer found utensils and settled opposite him at the kitchen island.

"So I've been wondering," Toby started. "How did Spencer Hastings end up as an interior designer instead of a lawyer? I thought I knew you well but I have to admit, I never saw that one coming."

"After everything I went through – we all went through – I needed to do something for myself," she replied. "I'd enjoyed remodeling the barn during the year after Ali disappeared and after UPENN didn't work out, I decided to give interior design a shot, see what happened. Turns out, I love it. I can't imagine myself as a lawyer."

"I never could see you as a lawyer," Toby admitted. "I could, I mean. You had the instincts. But it didn't mesh with the Spencer I knew." Spencer gave him a soft smile but didn't respond. She ate a few bites of her food before speaking again.

"You dad isn't what I expected," she told him. "Judith either. I've only met them both a couple times, but I'm having a hard time believing I could ever think of them as less than wonderful."

"You based your beliefs on what I told you about them," Toby reminded her. "I wasn't their biggest cheerleader back then."

"When did that change?" Spencer asked. "You seem close to your dad now and not just because he's sick."

"I guess things started to change when I told him what really happened to Mom," Toby said. "He said he'd never quite believed that she'd killed herself, but it was all he could do to keep himself together and try to take care of me so he never pursued his instincts. Then the truth about Jenna came out and he came looking for me, cornered me until we talked things out. I guess we didn't really move forward though until he got sick the first time." A thought struck Spencer.

"You didn't come home when he was sick the first time, did you?" Toby looked guilty.

"No," he admitted, pushing his food around on his plate. "I wasn't ready to come back here yet. I talked to him every day and if he'd really needed me, I would have been here, but he understood." Spencer felt there was more to the story, but she didn't push. Toby was two days away from taking his certification exam and she didn't want to upset him if it wasn't necessary.

"Judith seems to really love him," she commented instead. Toby shrugged.

"She does," he agreed. "But I think in more of a best friends sort of way than a love of her life sort of way. Same for Dad. My mom was the love of Dad's life and Judith's husband – Jenna's dad – was the love of hers. They both suffered tragic losses and saw themselves in each other. Single parents, trying to cope with the loss of their loved ones while raising a rebellious, moody teenager. She's good to him and he's good to her – can't ask for more than that, I guess."

"I forget that Jenna's father died in action," Spencer mused.

"Me too," Toby admitted. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying their dinner. Finally, Toby decided to ask Spencer one of the many questions he needed answered. They'd spent an awful lot of time talking about where he'd been and what he'd been up to and very little discussing the same things about her.

"Spence, the night of the fall festival, you said you didn't trust anyone," he started. She looked at him, showing he had her attention. "Yet you're here, alone, with me. And not for the first time. Why? Why aren't you screaming and throwing things and being irrational? That's what I deserve." A long silence followed while Spencer gathered her thoughts and Toby waited patiently for an answer.

"Remember me telling you how you being back was like picking up a book I'd started but never finished?" Toby nodded, remembering their conversation on the patio the night she'd showed up unexpectedly to talk. "I never got closure on our relationship. You were there one day and gone the next. A part of me is still hurt by that and that part of me wants to yell and scream and hate you.

"But I've grown up since then. I've been through a lot, Toby. Far more than any normal person should have to endure. My teenage years were full of dead bodies and real life nightmares. I've spent a small fortune on therapy bills and contrary to popular belief, talking about my fears and what I'd been through helped.

"The way I see it, I have a choice. I could scream and throw things and be irrational as you so eloquently put it, or I could take the high road and talk things out, ask you why you left and what you've been doing since, try to understand what happened. The Spencer you knew would have chose the first option but the Spencer who has become an adult picks the other."

Toby didn't quite know how to respond at first. He was confused, not sure where he stood with Spencer, what she wanted from him. He knew what he wanted – her – but he wasn't willing to push too far or run the risk of chasing her off again. Instead of pressing her for more, he decided to keep things simple.

"I'm glad you chose option two," he said, giving her a smile. "I like talking to you." Spencer returned the smile with a soft one of her own, noting the twinkle in his eyes.

"I like talking to you too."

* * *

The party was in full swing all around her. Small children ran in every direction, lining up for any one of the carnival games set up around Melissa's sprawling lawn. The bounce house and inflatable slide were the most popular stops while parents congregated around the catered food tables or hovered around the food truck waiting on their orders. Spencer laughed as she watched her niece go head first down the slide, tumbling ungracefully to the ground in her monogrammed birthday dress.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, checking it for a message from Toby even though she knew it was too early to have heard from him. He was in Philadelphia, taking his certification exam, and had promised he'd let her know how he did. It would take him most of the day to complete the test, but Spencer was anxious on his behalf. She hadn't seen him since she'd helped him study on Thursday, but they had texted a few times and he had called her last night as he drove to Philadelphia to check into a hotel to avoid an even earlier morning than he was already on for. She'd sent him a good luck text that morning and was eager to hear from him again.

"Some party, huh?" came her father's voice. Spencer turned away from the drink table where she had been adding more canned drinks to a dwindling ice bucket.

"It's a little elaborate," she said. "I don't remember any of my birthdays being this over the top. Melissa's either." She could give Melissa the extravagance of celebrating her daughter's first birthday. It was a major milestone after all. But she couldn't see why turning two called for an even more over the top party that her niece's first one had been.

"I think cake and ice cream and a small family celebration would have cut it," Peter Hastings agreed. "But Melissa has always been a little extravagant." Spencer knew to bite back the smart retort that had bubbled up inside her.

"Abby is worth it," she said, waving at her niece as she ran past, a trail of bubbles in her wake.

"She most certainly is," Peter agreed. He turned to Spencer with what she knew to be one of his more serious expressions that never boded well for the person it was meant for. "I've been trying to get you to myself since your mom and I got here. Got a second to talk with your old man?"

"Depends," Spencer said warily.

"I just need a minute," Peter told her. "Walk with me?" Spencer knew she didn't have a choice. They wandered through the backyard, exchanging pleasantries with people as they went. They didn't speak again until they rounded the corner of Melissa's house. While they were still in full view of the party, the privacy of her side yard, gave them cover to talk.

"What's going on, Dad?" Spencer asked. She caught sight of her mother across the yard, overseeing a rambunctious game of pin the tail on the donkey. She marveled for a moment at the fact that her mother could transition from hardnosed attorney to a textbook definition of the perfect grandmother and then back again so easily. She turned her attention back to her father.

"I hear you've been spending a lot of time with that Cavanaugh kid," Peter said, getting straight to the point. "Want to tell me what that's all about?"

"Toby," Spencer corrected. "And I think we're all a bit too old to be referred to as 'kid,' don't you?"

"Don't be smart with me, Spencer," Peter replied. "What are you doing hanging around that guy? He's dangerous and you know it."

"Dangerous?" Spencer scoffed. "Hardly. He's a lot of things, but dangerous isn't one of them. He made some mistakes when we were younger – we all did – but he wasn't dangerous. He never hurt me. At least not physically."

"He put you in a mental institution," Peter countered. "And then he took off and broke your heart all over again, didn't show his face around here for years, not even when his father was sick a few years back. Not to mention that he was a member of the A Team or whatever they called themselves."

"He was protecting me," Spencer reminded her father. "He put his own life on the line to ensure mine went on."

"So did Melissa," Peter pointed out.

"She did," Spencer agreed. "Toby had his reasons for leaving the way he did."

"Why are you defending him?" Peter asked. He wasn't happy with the words coming out of her mouth.

"He's been honest with me. He told me why he left, what happened while he was away. It's not my story to tell, but I'm not the only one that's been through a lot, Dad. He suffered too, and not just at the hands of Ezra and Cece."

Peter studied his youngest daughter. He was proud of the woman she had become. He knew she was strong, independent. Unlike her older sister, she didn't need to be coddled or indulged. She could take whatever life threw at her. But even Superman had a weakness and in Spencer's case, Peter knew her weakness was Toby Cavanaugh. As her father, his instinct was to step in, whether she wanted him to or not.

"Do you trust him?"

Spencer was taken aback by the question but she didn't let her father know it. She steeled herself and then answered as truthfully as she could. "I'm starting to."

"As your father, I have to advise you keep your distance," Peter told her, well aware of Spencer's trust issues. To him, 'starting to' was as good as a yes. "He's not good for you, Spencer. Never has been, never will be." Spencer's eyes narrowed as a few wheels clicked into place. Peter Hastings was a powerful man and a noted attorney. And his name was already being tossed around for the Republican party's senate candidate next year.

"Is it my father that's doing the advising or Peter Hastings, candidate for Pennsylvania senator?"

"Spencer," Peter warned. "I'm trying to help…"

"Spencer! Dad!" Melissa interrupted, appearing in the side yard, a curious expression on her face. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, darling," Peter said, a smile sliding easily into place. "I was just telling your sister…"

"To stay away from Toby?" Melissa guessed, crossing her arms.

"I was merely suggesting…"

"Don't bother," Melissa said, cutting him off again. "Spencer is an adult, Dad. She's more than capable of making her own decisions. We've all tried to make enough of them for her over the years. If she wants to hang around Cavanaugh, that's her choice. Now, your granddaughter is about to open her presents and would like her grandfather to watch. Her aunt too. So how about you two rejoin the party?"

Knowing he'd reached defeat, Peter sighed and turned to head back to the party. Spencer followed, Melissa falling in step with her.

"Thanks," Spencer told her sister quietly.

"How you deal with Toby is your decision," Melissa replied just as quietly. "But don't think I won't cut his balls off and feed them to him if I have to."

The sisters exchanged a smile before Melissa left her side to join her husband next to Abby's pile of presents. Spencer checked her phone one last time, still aware that it was too early to hear from Toby, before turning her attention to her niece.

* * *

Spencer was just pulling her car into its spot in the driveway when her phone rang out. Toby's name filled her screen and she answered quickly, pausing just long enough to throw the car in park.

"Hello?"

"This is Toby Cavanaugh, certified architect, speaking," he replied.

"Toby!" Spencer exclaimed, a big smile on face. "You passed!"

"I did," Toby confirmed. Spencer could hear the relief in his voice. "With room to spare. All that studying paid off."

"Congratulations," she told him. "You're a real architect now." Toby chuckled.

"I guess I am," he agreed.

"Where are you?"

"Driving back to Rosewood. I just got out of Philadelphia traffic so I've still got about an hour."

"Come over," Spencer told him without thinking too much. "We'll celebrate. I have leftover birthday cake."

"Oh yeah, Abby's party. How was that?"

"Extravagant," Spencer replied. She glanced in her review mirror at her niece sitting happily in her car seat in the backseat. "Abby's actually with me, so if you take me up on my offer of birthday cake, you'll have to deal with me entertaining a two year old who will probably have a meltdown at some point, once the sugar wears off."

"How'd you end up with Abby? She didn't want to stay home and play with all her new toys?"

"If given the choice, which she was, she chooses me every time," Spencer said proudly. "No worries though, she brought plenty of her new toys with her." And Spencer had a sneaking suspicion that Melissa and Michael had put their daughter off on her aunt as a means of paying her back for sneaking Abby extra sweets throughout the party.

"She's a smart girl," Toby said. Spencer felt the hint of a blush on her cheeks. "I'm down for celebrating with leftover birthday cake. I'll stop and pick up a pizza on my way. I'm starving."

"Sounds good," Spencer said. "I'll see you when you get here." She hung up and glanced into her backseat. "You ready for a fun-filled evening with Aunt Spencer?" she asked her niece.

"Yay!" the little girl shrieked, clapping her hands. Spencer laughed and got out of her car. Just over an hour later, surrounded by toys while _The Little Mermaid _played out on TV, Spencer heard the knock on the door she'd been waiting for. She made sure Abby was occupied before she answered.

"Hey!" she said, greeting Toby. He looked tired but happy, dressed down in jeans and a flannel shirt. She pulled the door open wide. "Come in." Toby stepped through the door and registered the toys strewn about Spencer's usually pristine living room.

"Did a toy factory explode in here?" he asked, narrowly avoiding stepping on a plastic piece of fruit that had fallen out of a nearby toy grocery cart.

"More or less," Spencer agreed. "Abby's not hurting in the toy department." At that moment, Abby came bounding out of the living room. She stopped short when she saw Toby and stared at him, unsure of the strange man her aunt was talking to. Toby gave what he hoped was a friendly smile while Spencer bent down to her niece's level. "Abby, this is my friend, Toby. Can you say hello?"

"Hi, Toby," the little girl said shyly, her fingers in her mouth.

"Hi, Abby," Toby said holding out his hand to shake the little girl's hand. She beamed at him then and extended her small arm, eager to do just like she'd seen her parents and grandparents do when they met new people. "I hear it's your birthday."

"I'm two!" Abby told him excitedly. She still had his hand. "Play!" She tugged him towards the living room, leaving Spencer to follow. For the next two hours, the three played with Abby's toys, re-watched _The Little Mermaid _and ate birthday cake and pizza. Abby, it seemed, had taken to Toby almost instantly.

"Toby, when you birfday?" Abby asked, stifling a yawn. She was snuggled in between Toby and Spencer on the couch, now in pajamas with her favorite blanket wrapped around her.

"In a couple of weeks," Toby told her.

"You habing a party?"

"I don't think so," he said with a shake of his head. Spencer remembered with a pang that he'd told her he'd last celebrated his birthday weeks before his mother died.

"Why?" Abby pressed.

"I've got a lot of work to do," Toby said. He kept his explanation simple, knowing he couldn't hardly begin to tell a two year old the real reason he never celebrated his birthday. "People ask me to draw their houses before they build them, so if I don't draw for them, they won't be able to build their houses."

"Oh," Abby said, satisfied. She yawned again. Spencer decided it was time for the little one to call it a night.

"Okay, Miss Abby, why don't you tell Toby goodnight? Then we'll go upstairs to my big bed and read a story."

"Two stories," Abby bartered.

"We'll see," Spencer replied, standing. "Now tell Toby goodnight."

"Night, Toby," she said. She surprised Toby by wrapping her arms around him and giving him a hug. He hugged her back, already rather taken with the small girl. A brief wave of nostalgia washed over him as he remembered that she would have likely been his niece if he hadn't messed things up.

"Sleep tight," he told her.

"Come on, Abby Dabby," Spencer said, lifting her niece into her arms. She looked over her shoulder at Toby as she started towards her stairs. "I'll be right back," she said. He nodded, a small smile on his face.

'Right back' turned out to be nearly 45 minutes. "Sorry about that," Spencer said as she walked down the stairs. "Abby is pretty good at fighting off bedtime." She stopped on the bottom stair, realizing that her living room, which had looked like a disaster zone when she'd went upstairs, was back to its usual state of cleanliness, Abby's toys stacked neatly in a corner. Toby was settled on the sofa, flipping through one of her home décor magazines.

"There you are," he said, looking at her over his shoulder. "I was starting to think the party had moved upstairs and bedtime was nothing more than a ruse."

"You didn't have to clean up," she replied, stepping off the last stair and joining him in the living room.

"I figured I was either helping you out or saving Abby from having to clean up in the morning," Toby replied. Spencer smiled.

"A little bit of both," she admitted. "I was going to make her help me. Responsibility and all." She sat down next to him and he put the magazine back on the coffee table. "So how does it feel to be an honest-to-God architect?"

"Not all that different, to be honest," Toby said. "I guess I can get real business cards now though." Spencer chuckled.

"In hindsight, I guess inviting you to celebrate with a two year old wasn't the best move," she said. "But… I'm glad you came over." Toby just looked at her for a long moment, hardly able to believe that he was with Spencer, that she wanted him there.

"So am I," he said. "And Abby is pretty cool. I guess she gets that from her aunt."

"Well, of course she does," Spencer said, making Toby laugh. "Does your dad know you passed your exam?" Toby nodded.

"I called him after I called you," he said. "He finally admitted to me that he failed his exam twice. I had no idea. The way he went on, you'd think all he'd had to do was show up on exam day."

"That's our parents for you," Spencer quipped. "Want to watch a movie?" Toby nodded his agreement and let Spencer pick. She chose a comedy and soon, they were both laughing, sitting so close together their thighs touched. Without realizing he'd done it, his arm wrapped around Spencer's shoulders at some point, pulling her into his chest. Their feet were propped on the coffee table, Spencer's head resting on his shoulder as she laughed.

He couldn't say what the movie was about, what had made Spencer laugh so much. All he knew was that she was in his arms. He could feel her. Her scent filled his nostrils. His heart simultaneously ached for what he'd lost and burst with happiness at the simple fact that he was holding again. He didn't want the night to end.

The movie was over too soon though, breaking the spell. Spencer seemed to realize her proximity to him as the credits rolled. She pulled away too quickly for his liking, stretching as she yawned. It was nearly midnight and Toby knew it was time to go.

"I should get going," he said, scooting to the edge of the sofa. "It's getting late and I've been up since the crack of dawn."

"It has been a long day," she agreed. "Kids' birthday parties are exhausting." Spencer walked with him outside and leaned against her porch railing as he prepared to leave. "Congratulations," she said again. "I'm glad to know a certified architect will be working on the Sanford house."

"Well, I'm glad to know a talented interior designer will be taking care of making the inside beautiful once construction is done."

Their eyes locked. The air around them hummed, a very familiar pull present between the two. Spencer took a step towards him involuntarily while he took one of his own. They were only feet apart, both fighting the urge to throw themselves at the other. Both knew it was the wrong thing to do for a number of reasons. Spencer hadn't yet sorted out how she felt about Toby while Toby didn't want to run the risk of scaring her off when he was finally making headway. Instead, he blurted out the words he'd wanted to say for a while.

"Let me take you on a date," he said. "A real, honest to goodness date. I'll be a perfect gentleman. I'll pick you up on time and pay for dinner or a movie or whatever we decide to do. I'll open doors, pull out chairs. I won't make a move when the night ends. I'll walk you to your door and say goodnight. We can decide from there if a second date happens or not."

Spencer looked at him, her insides rolling. She suddenly felt like she was in over her head, completely out of her comfort zone. She had dated here and there, had a couple of short-lived relationships that had ultimately been doomed from the start. But Toby had been the love of her life at one point in time. He'd hurt her tremendously. But since he'd been back in Rosewood, he'd become a part of her life. She still had to sort out just how big of a part he'd be.

"Toby… I…" she was lost for words, torn right down the middle on whether to say yes. Her heart said one thing, her head another.

"Just say yes," Toby said, knowing the struggling she was feeling inside. He still knew her well. "One date, Spencer. That's all I'm asking for. A date. It's not a marriage proposal."

"Okay," Spencer said softly. "One date." A weight Toby didn't know was there fell off his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said. "How is Tuesday?"

"Pick me up at 6?" Spencer replied.

"I'll wear a clean shirt," Toby said with a grin. Spencer couldn't help but chuckle. He reached out and took her hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze and felt her squeeze back. "See you Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Spencer echoed. She folded her arms over her chest as she watched Toby walk down her sidewalk and then slide behind the wheel of his truck. With her heart and her head raging a battle, she headed inside where, once the lights were turned off and she'd changed into pajamas, she climbed into bed next to her sleeping niece and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**They have a date! I know I've been teasing a kiss, but other things have to happen first. And there are a LOT of things left unsaid at this point. **

**Those architect questions were true-to-life sample questions I found online. Glad I chose journalism as a career. **

**And I just _had _to bring Peter into the picture!**

**Let me know what you think!**


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